


Space Virgins

by BurnedStars777



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Smut, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Bond Shenanigans, Force Visions, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Jakku, Kissing at Midnight, Kylo Ren and Rey Are Not Related, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Redeemed Ben Solo, Rey Needs A Hug, Secret Relationship, Shower Sex, That's Not How The Force Works, The Force, Virgin Ben Solo, Virgin Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-03-10 04:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurnedStars777/pseuds/BurnedStars777
Summary: During the day, Kylo can’t break through the Bond. Rey is too angry and too hurt to hear him out, let alone touch him again.When he finds he can intercept her while she’s sleeping, however, he discovers in their dreams he is more confident and she's more willing.Uncle Luke is NOT amused.Or:A million and one ways Luke tries to cock block his nephew





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for letting me write this beautiful trash. This story will be based very loosely on some teasers we got for Episode IX. 
> 
> Low-key DYING about all the Vanity Fair photos and comments we got. My heart is full. Hit me up on Tumblr under OkaaraGem if you want to talk theories or if you love Reylo memes!

He waits three weeks after Crait before he attempts to reopen their connection. He would have tried sooner, but Kylo recognizes Rey is far too angry with him to allow him in right away, and besides, he isn’t too happy with her either.

After everything, after he gave up _everything_ for her, killed his master, risked his life, fought alongside her, she refused him. And he’s still at a loss as to why.

He offered her the entire galaxy. He offered her everything he had. He would have given her a life of significance, a life that mattered. With him.

The more Kylo turns it over in his mind, the more he wonders if she rejected his offer not because it didn’t appeal to her, but because _he_ didn’t appeal to her.

The thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, and he hacks at his desk with the crackling blade of his lightsaber until there is nothing left. It doesn’t help.

The first time he finally reaches out to her, he is alone in his room. He has a searing headache; he always does when he returns from Hux’s meetings. He knows _he_ should be the one summoning Hux and not the other way around, but he’s been so lost these past few weeks he can barely see straight.

He sits on his bed, his gloved hands clutching the fine material of his covers. He focuses his mind, and reaches out with the Force, imagining her, visualizing every detail of her face.

It’s laughable how quickly he finds her. She is sitting down, but he can’t decipher where; he still can’t see her surroundings. When she senses him, her head jerks up so violently that Kylo is stunned she does not break her neck in the process.

He opens his mouth to speak, but her face twists in fury and she severs the connection once more, and he’s left in a pit of anger and self-loathing.

He tries every other day for the next week. Every time it is the same.

He has trouble sleeping, he thinks of her so often. He replays that night in the throne room over and over and over until he has every detail memorized. The sweat along her hairline. The tears bubbling in her eyes. The disappointment racking her features.

Kylo sits up, knowing sleep will be impossible, and he buries his face in his hands.

Two weeks pass, and the galaxy is calm. There is currently no Resistance to oppose them, with their numbers so drastically reduced on Crait. Hux has told him over and over again that now is the chance to seek them out, to destroy them for good, but Kylo doesn’t see the point. He doesn’t see the point of anything.

It was all for nothing.

He thinks it can’t get any worse, until he feels the buzz of their connection in his brain. At first his chest swells with something resembling hope; has she decided to reach out to him?

When he lifts his head, however, he sees she has his back to him, unsuspecting, or ignoring him. So the Force has connected them by itself again.

He watches her spine stiffen, and she knows he’s watching. She releases a spurt of forced laughter, and then the person she is supposedly talking to speaks.

And Kylo sees red.

He can recognize the tonal arrogance of Poe Dameron anywhere. He wonders irrationally if Rey is alone with the pilot, if they are friends, if they are more than friends. He wonders if she has fallen for his charm the way everyone else has, the way his parents had.

His thoughts must be awfully distracting, for Rey looks over her shoulder and shoots him a glare so venomous that he retreats from her mind as soon as the Force allows him.

He passes by an unsuspecting med-droid in the hallway, and soon it is reduced to scrap metal.

Eventually, Kylo’s body begins to shut down from exhaustion, and daily functions become impossible. He doesn’t even have the energy to choke Hux when the Admiral becomes bold enough to comment on his mental state. As soon as he can get a moment to himself, Kylo enters his chamber and collapses onto his bed, dressed from head to toe.

As his eyes droop shut, he idly wonders when his mask will be repaired, so he can conceal his face once more.

He dreams of her, naturally. Her back is to him again, and Kylo notes how she wears her hair differently. It is wound in her signature three buns, but it is more elegant, and he wonders if this is something Leia has done for her. He also notes her sandy tunic has been swapped for one of a pure white color. His lip curls. She is the epitome of the Light, something the Resistance has been sure to capitalize on.

She looks over her shoulder at him, and he braces himself for the poison in her eyes. As she turns her jaw, however, he discovers she regards him only warily, if not curiously.

Kylo feels the subtle shift in the Force, and he realizes this is not just a dream; it is another connection. But does she know that?

Strangely, he feels bolder, and he walks up to her until he is close enough to count the freckles on her nose. She hasn’t moved her position, but her eyes trail over his face, and Kylo makes sure to do everything in his power to keep his blasted ears from reddening.

“Are you really there?” she asks, and again her voice is filled with quiet curiosity.

He swallows, unsure of what to say. He settles with, “Do you want me to be?”

She turns around properly, so she faces him. She cocks her head to the side.

“I’m not sure,” she admits.

“You despise me,” Kylo infers, and he is embarrassed by how choked his voice is.

A frown adorns her face. “Ben…”

“You shouldn’t call me that.” His hands clench and unclench. “No one should call me that.”

Her hand twitches at her side, but she remains still. Even so, Kylo has seen the movement, and he is brought back to the one time he has properly touched her.

“It’s your name,” she responds, and her eyes trace along the scar on his face.

He raises his hand before he knows what he is doing and brushes a gloved thumb across the skin of her shoulder. He feels her stiffen, but she doesn’t move away, and to Kylo, this is a victory. A small one at that, but a victory nonetheless.

She fades from his mind after that, and he wakes up frustrated, but well rested.

That morning in the ‘fresher, he discovers something else. There’s a pleasant shifting in his stomach, and he finds he is achingly hard.

He hasn’t taken himself in his hand since he was Ben Solo. Snoke was disgusted by such needless, human desires, and Kylo would not dare cross his master. Over time, it had been quite easy to expel such thoughts from his mind. Snoke’s constant presence in his mind was far from a turn on. 

But now Snoke is gone.

Kylo moans softly as his hand wraps around his cock, and he begins to move. His maneuvers are fierce, almost violent, as he pleasures himself. He remembers his dream, remembers how good it felt to have the Force connect him to her again. He pictures the freckles on Rey’s face, and the brush of skin under his gloved fingertip.

He comes thinking about her fucking shoulder.

The Force doesn’t bridge their minds again for over a week, and Kylo has given up on trying to reach her for the moment. She is clearly still too furious to speak with him, and he isn’t a patient man. He will shut her out completely if he has to.

_But you won’t,_ he thinks traitorously, and he goes to the training room to spar for the rest of the day. He incinerates three training droids, imagining Dameron’s smirking face.

He flops into his bed that night, and sleep overtakes him like a wave. He muddles through his murky thoughts, until he comes to a jungle planet, the greenery so lush and thick that he can’t see fifteen feet in front of him.

But he doesn’t need to, because she is sitting a mere seven feet away.

“Ben,” she speaks as soon as she notices him. She stands and comes up to him, and he nearly takes a step back in surprise. There is a small smile on her face.

She has never smiled at him before.

“I didn’t think I would see you again,” she tells him, and he blinks at her.

“I didn’t believe you would want to see me.”

“Do you always have to be so cynical?”

“Yes.”

Rey raises an eyebrow. “I don’t mind seeing you. I rather like these dreams.”

Kylo becomes simultaneously elated and disappointed. On one hand, he now realizes she believes these to only be dreams. On the other hand, she likes the fact that he is in them.

He feels awkward as awareness creeps over him. Has his own will and desire clouded her own ability to recognize the connection of the Force around them?

He doesn’t have time to find out, for she closes the gap between them. Her arms encircle his waist, and she presses her face against his collarbone. She squeezes him tightly while Kylo stares at her, his body completely stiff and his jaw hanging at a funny angle.

When was the last time he was hugged? He is the Supreme Leader! The Supreme Leader does not get _hugged._

Rey doesn’t appear to be letting go anytime soon though, and Kylo is secretly grateful. Once he recovers from his shock and gets over his indignation, he winds his arms around her smaller frame and presses his cheek against the top of her head. He can feel her breathing as if it is his own, and he closes his eyes.

“I wish you had left with me,” she murmurs against his chest.

“I wish you had stayed,” he replies.

A warm feeling spreads inside his chest, and this is the most relaxed he has been in months. He doesn’t even think about bitter things, like whether or not she has done this with Dameron or that traitor FN-2187.

Her breath is soft and sweet against his neck, and she smells like sand and sweat. He wants it to always be like this.

But of course it can’t be.

He feels a chill, like ice water running down his back, and there is a disturbance in the Force. His skin breaks out in prickles, despite the fact that Rey is snug between his arms.

“What are you doing, Ben?”

Kylo’s eyes snap open, and he raises his head, pivoting it to the right. The jungle has faded and Skywalker is standing only feet away, in all his deadened glory. He looks younger, healthier, but his hair and beard is still tinged with gray, and he wears those ratty robes. He surveys Kylo with a mixture of unamusment and mild curiosity, and Kylo’s arms subconsciously tighten around Rey.

“Leave,” he hisses to his uncle, the tension in his body and voice returning in full force.

Rey remains unmoving, and Kylo discovers quickly she cannot hear this interaction.

Skywalker’s eyes glide down to the girl in his arms. “This isn’t right, Ben. You shouldn’t drag her into this.”

“As if I’d ever listen to-”

“This is a fantasy you’ve created,” Skywalker says, his voice harder. “One she hasn’t agreed to be a part of. If you continue to tamper with the connection in this way, her mind could be affected.”

Kylo’s jaw sets. “Affected how?” he snaps, before he can think better of it.

His uncle doesn’t comment, and Kylo smirks as he realizes the answer.

“You’re afraid I’ll tempt her to the Dark?” It’s more of a statement then a question.

Skywalker’s eyes become sad. “Kid-”

“I’ll tamper with it all I like. She belongs by my side.”

Any sadness in his uncle’s eyes is overtaken by a cool look. “I thought you swore to destroy her.”

A muscle in Kylo’s face jumps as he realizes his error. “S-she’s powerful in the Force. It would be foolish not to train her, as I’m sure you’ve neglected to do.”

“I swore to never train another Jedi, and I’ve kept that vow.” His eyes flicker down to the Rey. “Besides, she doesn’t need a master. She’s resourceful, and clever, and will be far more powerful in the Force than I ever was.”

“I know what she is,” Kylo barks.

Rey fades from his arms then, presumably having woken, and he glances down in shock, and then back up in fury. His hand immediately goes to his hip, but he has no saber in this dream world.

“You’re a miserable, old fool, and if you weren’t already dead, I’d find you and kill you myself,” Kylo roars, raising his hand, preparing to attack with the Force if necessary.

Skywalker stares back at him, his face unreadable. “We’ll be in touch.”

Kylo wakes up wondering what in the hell he means by that. 

 

\---

 

The following week, the Force connects them while she is training. Kylo notices how it is a staff she wields, and not his legacy saber, leading him to believe she has not repaired it. A bitter taste crosses his tongue. He could have showed her how to repair it. If she had stayed it wouldn’t have even been broken in the first place.

He watches the muscles in her arms clench as she spins her weapon tightly, and he frowns in thought. The technique, it is not unlike his own. He knows for a fact Skywalker has not bothered to train her properly, and certainly she has had no previous training. Sometimes it still amazes him how deeply their connection runs.

She grunts softly as she lashes out at an unseen opponent, and her footing slips a bit. She drops her shoulders and lowers her staff, readjusting her stance. A single droplet of sweat runs down the back of her neck and disappears into her tunic.

“Are you going to say anything?” Rey asks him, continue to stand in profile to him.

Kylo does not jump. He knows she has been able to sense him.

“If I offered council, you wouldn’t take it,” he responds. He pauses. “Your stance is far too wide.”

She jerks her head to glare at him, but whatever insult she has for him dies on her tongue. It suddenly occurs to Kylo how fatigued she seems. He knows the Resistance is hanging on by a thread, but he has never stopped to consider how much it could be affecting her.

Regardless, she adjusts her feet, and he hides his pleased expression.

The connection breaks soon after that, but Kylo comes away feeling victorious. This is the first time she has not tried to violently wrench herself away in wakefulness, and he silently treasures any ground he can regain.

Two nights later he skips one of Hux’s meetings and chokes him out when he demands to know why. He retires to his chamber afterwards, working out a crick in his neck.

He is not tired, but he forces himself to sleep, knowing it is the only respite he can get.

He dreams regularly for several hours, for it is not often she is asleep the same time as he. When he eventually catches a flash of white, he finds her sitting by a stream, her legs curved in an angle to one side. Her spine is straight and she faces away from him.  

“Are you just going to stand there?” she questions, her eyes on the stream.

Kylo pauses before taking a seat to her left. The last time he sat on the ground was on Crait, and that was not by choice. He can still feel his father’s dice in his hands if he wanted to.

But of course he doesn’t want to.

“It’s peaceful here,” Rey comments, eyeing him.

He nods. “Yes.”

“Is this the sort of peace you would like?”

He watches her carefully. “It’s the peace we would have had if you ruled by my side.”

She shakes her head. “It’s not as simple as that. I couldn’t leave the fleet to die.”

Kylo’s jaw clenches. “Yes, you’ve made it very clear that you would give your life for rebel scum who have never bothered to give you anything in return.”

“They are my family, Ben. They’re the family I chose.” Her eyes scan over his face. “I’m sorry you can’t see the importance of that for yourself.”

He’s becoming too angry, so he briefly closes his eyes to control himself.

“It doesn’t matter,” he amends, opening his eyes. “What’s done is done.”

Rey nods. “So it is.”

It’s quiet, save for the gentle lapping of the stream in front of them. Rey reaches forward and runs a fingertip along the surface of the water.

“It’s silly,” she says, lifting her finger and watching the drops fall, “but the sight of running water still amazes me. I never thought I would see so much of it.”

Kylo remains silent, but his thoughts flicker back to the images he had once plucked from her mind. A lonely girl, her cheeks reddened from sun and sand burns. He remembers one of their Force connections, of the rainwater that had accumulated on his gloved hand. At the time, he had been curious to discover she was on a water planet, but he had also wondered what it must have been like for her. If she had thought it was the best thing in the entire galaxy.

He automatically flexes his fingers from the memory, and they accidently brush against her wrist. He jerks his hand away, suddenly self-conscious, as if she would be the one to move away first if he did not.

Her eyes fall to his hand, and she slowly raises her own, her fingertips pointed at the sky.

“I swore I would never touch you again,” she admits, and he can’t help the flinch that crosses his face, “not in the way we did before.” She swallows. “But I need to know if what I saw before is still true.” Her fingertips twitch.

He stares at her open palm, his eyes tracing the lines across her hand.

“It’s alright,” she whispers, and his chin trembles as he removes the glove of his right hand.

His hand is so much larger than hers; it could engulf it entirely if he wanted it to. He mirrors the position of her hand and lets the space hover between them. The blood pounds in his ears, and he can sense her wariness and excitement through their bond.

He wonders if she still thinks this is just a dream.

His palm glides over hers, and he inhales sharply at the contact. Before the touch of fingertips was enough to shatter his world, but this is something else entirely.

He feels the warmth of her skin, and he catches flashes of a life that isn’t his own. He’s holed away on some lush planet, staring up at the stars with a wistful expression. He spots glimpses of her freckled cheeks, hears the shouting of young children, the sound of sparring weapons meeting one another. He sees her sitting by the fire, her eyes tired but soft.

And when he comes to, their fingers are interlocked.

He can tell she is just as affected by her vision, if it is truly the same thing he has just seen. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyebrows furrowed, and she carefully lowers their joined hands until her bare knuckles brush the dirt.

Kylo, feeling the warmth of confidence and belonging-as he is starting to realize is a common occurrence during these dreams-takes advantage of these swirling, pleasant emotions. He dips his head, resting his forehead against her shoulder, his nose tracing the skin of her upper arm. Her fingers tighten around his, and he moves his face along her shoulder, until the tip of his nose touches her neck.

He wonders if she tastes like sweat.

He doesn’t have a chance to find out, for the chill has returned to his spine, and he knows they are no longer alone.

“Ben.”

He sounds annoyed.

Kylo grits his teeth. “For fuck’s sake,” he mutters against Rey’s neck.

His hand leaves hers, and he turns his head to find his Uncle standing a few yards away.

“What’s wrong?” Rey asks him, and Ben watches remorsefully as her image begins to fade. “Ben?”

She’s gone when he blinks, and he clenches his bare fist. He rises immediately, his teeth pressed so hard together they could chip.

“I warned you not to tamper,” Skywalker reminds him, his hands tucked into the large sleeves of his robe. “Soon she’ll realize what you’re doing.”

“By the time she does, it will be too late,” Kylo spits. “She’ll see for herself that the Dark can offer her what she seeks.”

He raises an eyebrow. “As it has offered what _you_ seek?”

Kylo falls into a disgruntled silence.

Skywalker shakes his head. “This isn’t the way, Ben.”

His anger returns in full force. “Don’t pretend you care for my fate. You said it yourself, there’s no hope left for me.”

“I’ve failed you,” his uncle amends. “I see now I can’t bring you back. It is my greatest failure.” He studies Kylo. “But there’s someone out there who still can. If you let her.”

His uncle turns to go, and Kylo isn’t sure if he should protest or not. He feels like he’s quickly losing control of the situation.  

“Don’t make this more difficult for her than it already is,” Skywalker says over his shoulder, “or the next time I won’t be so amiable.”

Kylo wakes up with irritation crawling down his back like insects. He is growing tired of his uncle’s ominous messages.

 

\---

 

He has decided the best way to speak to Rey without the threat of Skywalker interrupting is to chance another connection through their bond in wakefulness. Although Rey is infinitely more pissed off at him when she has her wits about her, Kylo also knows it is far more difficult for Skywalker to break through this way.

Besides, there is a part of him that wonders if she will become as gentle as she is to him when they are sleeping.

He gazes out his window, his eyes tracing the stars as he visualizes her, light years away on some grungy rebel base. He easily finds her signature through the Force, but she appears to be actively blocking him out. He frowns in frustration. Just the other day she had seemed content to talk to him. What has he done that has reverted her back to her old mood?

His frustration with himself and with his uncle overtakes him, and against his better judgment he pushes violently with his mind, feeling a twinge of satisfaction as he breaks though. He can feel her surprise and then her alarm at his success, and a moment later he discovers why.

Her hair is sopping wet, and her bare shoulders are dappled with ‘fresher water. She clutches her attire tightly to the front of her bare body, covering her flesh in such an unnatural way that Kylo is led to believe she has scrambled to do so the instant she felt him through the Force.

Her face, wet from water and tinged red from the heat of the ‘fresher, is glaring at him so irately that Kylo immediately feels a surge of regret, and then awkwardness. He is glad his curtain of hair covers his ears.

She doesn’t say a word as he severs the connection. 

Kylo robotically walks over to his bed and sits. He stares at his chamber floor for Maker knows how long. He’s slightly mortified, he will admit, but he is mostly just disappointed. His impulsivity has been his downfall yet again. Now, she will most likely never stand his presence long enough to keep their connection.

He wonders with a twinge of fear if she will refuse to see him in her dreams altogether.

He bites his tongue so hard that he tastes metal in his mouth. His mind goes back to the brief glimpse he had of her, standing defiantly in the wake of her exposure.

He has never seen a woman bare before. His experience has been limited to a few clumsy kisses as a Padawan in his uncle’s academy, and even then he had heard the girlish whispers of ‘dares’ afterwards.

It doesn’t bother him. Really it doesn’t. There are other things, more practical, urgent matters to attend to, such as running the galaxy.

At least, that’s what he tells himself as he unbuckles his belt.


	2. Chapter 2

Kylo stares down at the mended helmet in his grip. Ugly, thick, red lines map all over the creases he created. It looks poorly made; no doubt it will break again if an opponent lands a direct blow to his skull.

It doesn’t matter. The point of it is to conceal his face, and that is what he will do.

It doesn’t leave his head unless he showers or sleeps. He catches Hux curling his lip during briefings, but he ignores him, as he usually does unless the Admiral becomes particularly difficult.

His dreams are normal, to his disappointment and relief. Kylo ponders what it is the Resistance has Rey doing that affects her sleep schedule so. He imagines her running from scoundrels, or maybe training until she is spent. He wonders if she spends nights in her own chamber, or if she stays with Dameron or that traitor.

His features have twisted into a hideous scowl at this point, and he is once again grateful for the cover over his face.

One day, when he is giving orders to his subordinates to patrol the outer rim, he feels the buzz in his brain and for one moment he panics. He is not alone here. His officers bustle around him, occasionally casting him wary or terrified looks, when they think his back his turned, and surely they will notice something is amiss.

He walks away halfway through an officer’s sentence, and he doesn’t care for the man’s confusion or bewilderment. He rounds an empty corridor right as the bond fully manifests, and he finds her with her hair down.

She regards him coolly, her eyes attached to his helmet. He expects her to be surprised or suspicious, or perhaps even angry, but she just seems unimpressed.

“So you’re back to that blasted thing?” She says it more as a statement.

Her mouth tugs down at the corners as she lifts her arms to pin up her hair. She’s still cross with him from the other day.

“I can’t be parading around my men without it,” he replies calmly, his voice heavily modulated.

She lowers her arms. “It didn’t seem to trouble you before.”

Kylo doesn’t know how to respond to that.

Her eyebrows furrow. “Why do you insist on reaching out to me?”

This is a question he is not expecting, and he allows himself to emote freely under the cover of his helmet.

“This bond is hardly something I can control.”

“Maybe, but you certainly don’t seem keen to resist it,” she points out.

He clenches his jaw. “You think resisting it will help?”

“I think resisting _you_ will help,” she fires back, and then, because _she_ is not wearing a mask, her expression floods with embarrassment at the admission.

Kylo is very pleased.

“You regret it. That night in the throne room.” She doesn’t have to answer; he can feel it churning in her mind.

She raises her chin. “I regret nothing that _I_ did.”

Kylo curls his fingers into fists. “You blame me then.”

“I,” she pauses, perhaps considering how to word her next statement. “I wish you had chosen differently.”

“This is pointless,” he says tiredly. “Nothing will change.”

“I’m starting to see that,” she says softly, sadly. Her eyes roam over his helmet, and before Kylo can think of how to respond, she fades from his view.

 

\---

 

Kylo grunts as his saber fizzles through his enemy, the lifeless body plummeting to the ground. He looks around the dirt planet, and he can easily see through the sparse cropping of trees that there is no longer a threat. He sheathes his saber and attaches it to his belt.

Honestly, he is the Supreme Leader of the First Order. The fact that he had just been challenged by a group of low-life scoundrels is demeaning.

He decides to keep this excursion to himself, for no doubt Hux will be entirely too smug for his own good.

He moves to run a hand over his hair, but his fingers meet the metal of his helmet. This is not the first time he has forgotten its presence. It will probably not be the last.

He retires to his room and immediately goes to the ‘fresher to wash the red dirt from his skin. As he stands under the water, he thinks about touching himself, but decides against it. He still has a sour taste in his mouth from his last connection with Rey, despite her confession that she actively resists him.

He thinks about what ways she must have meant.

He has trouble sleeping that night, and he tosses and turns for hours before finally falling into a disgruntled slumber. His paranoid thoughts chip at his rest as he wonders if his uncle is observing him right now, biding his time. When figures and shapes begin to form in his sleep, Kylo sees only sand, feels only the sun.

He finds Rey kneeling on the ground, her shoulders brown from sunshine. He approaches her, well aware that here he is exposed; here he cannot hide behind a mask.

When he comes close enough, he sees she is in front of a pit, two pits in fact. Bleached bone and rags stick out of the grains, and Kylo understands she has found her parents.

Her eyes aren’t wet, as he would have expected them to be. She stares at the bones with a hard look, her mouth set in a thin line. Her body is hunched over and tucked, her hands on her knees.

“I wish I knew where they were,” she says quietly. She looks at him. “You said you saw them. Can you tell me?”

“Rey…”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to keep this from me.”

“I only saw peasants’ graves. I don’t know where they are,” he tells her honestly.

At first she doesn’t look like she believes him, but then she sighs and rises. She seems sadder here, as if her conscious thoughts are leaking into her subconscious ones. Kylo wonders with a touch of fear if he is losing his grip on her, if she will soon regard him with the same disdain she does in wakefulness.

That is why when she reaches for his hand, he feels an almost frightening amount of relief wash over his body.

“Come on,” she says, and she leads them away from her parents’ graves.

The world around them morphs, and he recognizes the deteriorating AT-AT that she has called her home for most of her life. He recognizes the scenery from glimpses into her mind. The pilot rag doll. The old rebel helmet. The single tallies on the walls. Honestly, who doesn’t group tallies into fives?

Rey sits on her bunk, her hands coming around to grip the ends. “This was my home,” she says, looking around, “but I’m sure you already knew that.”

He nods.

She smiles to herself. “For years, I was lonely, but I didn’t like to think I was. I told myself I wasn’t because I was waiting. That it was only temporary.” Her lips waver, and she stares up at him. “Do you know what that’s like?”

In wakefulness he would deny it. He would put up walls, because she has hurt him, and he would tell himself he doesn’t need her.

Instead he takes a step forward and replies, “Yes,” without hesitation.

She stands again, and she is close enough to him that he can count the freckles on her cheeks, can see the flecks of green in her eyes. She lifts her finger and runs the tip gently over the scar that bisects his face. His holds his breath, watching her as she stares at his old wound in concentration. He can see the conflict in her eyes, can feel it in her soul, funny, how only a few months ago she had said the same thing to him. Even so, it makes his chest ache to know he is responsible for it.

“I’m sorry,” escapes his lips before he can stop himself.

She meets his eyes and drops her hand. “Me too.”

Her hand finds his by his hip, and his forehead dips to touch against hers. Their noses brush, and Kylo’s thoughts race as he tries to remember how to kiss a woman just before he does it.

Her lips are so soft they are almost slippery, and he applies very little pressure, just in case she moves away. In fact, she does quite the opposite. She makes her mouth hard and pushes back, her robotic movements highlighting her own inexperience.

He moves away for a moment, opening his eyes to gauge her reaction. He can feel her surprise but also her confusion, confusion as to why he has pulled away.

When he reattaches their mouths again he tries moving his lips, and she replicates the maneuvers. When he parts his lips she makes a small, surprised noise, and their teeth clack and he winces.

But she doesn’t pull back the way he expects her too. She doesn’t giggle or give him a pitying look or cover her mouth as if she can’t wait to tell her friends what a horrible kisser Ben Solo is. Instead she grips the front of his shirt to anchor him, as she stands on her tiptoes.

He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He tries holding hers, but that seems wrong, so he puts them on her shoulders and then hips, and all the while he is still moving his mouth, and he nearly groans when he tastes her tongue.

He wants to lie her down on her bunk, but he doesn’t know if she’ll let him. He doesn’t want to scare her off, but the way she is pressed against him now is just so tantalizing that he wants to spread her legs and make her scream his-

He feels a whack on the back of his head, and he breaks apart from Rey as he cries out from the short, sharp pain. He whips around to find his uncle has joined them in the AT-AT, brandishing the same stick he used on younglings when they weren’t

focusing during meditation. Kylo rubs the back of his head in indignation; he is more shocked at Skywalker’s audacity than he is angry.

But then Rey disappears from the commotion, and he’s about to lose his damn mind.

“This is getting old,” Skywalker tells him, his face calm but his voice betraying just how annoyed he is. “When they said ‘all-seeing’ this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“Spare me your grievances,” Kylo barks. If only he had his saber.

Skywalker’s eyebrows furrow. “Her mind is already being affected, Ben. You may not be able to see it now, but with her power, she is just as corruptible as you, perhaps even more so.”

“You’re forgetting I want her to turn,” he spits. “I saw our destiny. She will rule beside me. We _will_ bring a new order to this galaxy.”

“But if she turns, will she be who she is now? She might not be like you, Ben,” his uncle warns. “She could lose herself completely to the Dark. She may not be able to stay in limbo as you have. Is that what you want for her?”

Kylo knows Skywalker is just spouting this nonsense to scare him, to make him rethink his motives. But he knows better. Rey belongs by his side, and if she can’t recognize her potential while she is in the Light, then she must join him in the Dark.

But Kylo has nothing to say to his uncle, so he releases a ferocious yell and channels all of his power and energy into blocking Skywalker out.

He succeeds by waking up.

 

\---

 

Four days later, during a briefing he can’t care less about, Kylo thinks about his next move. He should bridge their connection again while they are both awake to minimize the chances of Skywalker’s interference. Rey has been warming up to him gradually, albeit not as quickly as she has been in their dreams, but progress is progress. At least she isn’t as quick to shut him out anymore.

He stares at the table in front of him, enveloped in his thoughts, when he hears the word ‘Jakku.’

His head snaps up. “Repeat that,” he commands Hux, his voice muffled from the modulator of his helmet.

The Admiral looks beyond irritated, but he rolls back his shoulders. “I _said_ there have been whispers of rebel sightings on a desert planet. Perhaps one of the many on the outer rim, Tatooine, or Jakku or-”

“Jakku,” Kylo says instantly. “We’ll start there.”

Hux gawks. “They could be on any of the _thousands_ of desert planets in this forsaken galaxy, and you just want to blindly send _my_ army to Jakku? You don’t have the authorization-”

Kylo stands, and then Hux is choking. He lazily waits until the Admiral’s face is purple before he releases the man. Kylo turns on his heel and walks towards the door.

“Set coordinates for Jakku.”

“Yes, Supreme Leader,” Hux rasps.

 

\---

 

When one of the lower ranking officials shuffles in with trembling shoulders, Kylo knows whatever he is about to say is bad news. He has learned that his men do well in anticipating his furious spells-for they _are_ spells and not temper tantrums-and there has never been a time when he has become enraged when they approach him in this manner.

“What is it?” Kylo snaps, knowing he should get this over with.

“T-there is a p-problem w-with the ship, Supreme Leader,” he says, and Kylo swears the man’s hair turns gray right before his eyes. “W-we must check the engines. We w-won’t be able to j-jump to light speed for t-two d-d-days.”

And alas, a nearby control panel becomes Kylo’s next victim, which in hindsight, probably isn’t the wisest idea given he literally just found out the ship needs repairs. He retires to his room before he destroys anything else.

Two days. _Two days._ She could be long gone by then!

Kylo paces back and forth, his body wrought with tension. He is too wound up to even remember he is wearing his helmet. He is too wound up to realize the connection has manifested once more.

“Are you alright?”

Kylo nearly trips over his cape. He does the best to compose himself, but when he studies Rey’s face, he can tell his transition is anything but smooth. He stands there motionless, with his arms slightly extended from his body, as if he is about to either tear the world to shreds or curl in on himself.

He knows Rey can’t see his expression, but she can feel his fury, his anxiety, and he doesn’t think it even matters if his face is hidden.

But apparently it matters to her.

She narrows her eyes as she approaches him, as if she believes he will lash out and strike her. A ridiculous notion. When has he ever attacked her when not first prompted by her trigger-happy fingers?

When she is close enough to touch him, she raises both hands and touches the cold metal around his face. She fiddles with the mechanisms of it, and then when she’s figured it out, she gently lifts her hands. The quiet whoosh of the mask echoes in his nearly empty chamber, and soon his face is as visible as hers.

She holds the helmet in her hands, staring at his face. Perhaps she is thinking of the first time he removed it for her in the interrogation room. He didn’t need to then, but she had intrigued him, and he had honored her request in the hopes it would throw her. Now, he isn’t quite sure why he lets her remove it.

“You’re better without it,” she says, and his ears tinge red.

She’s still watching his face, and Kylo notices for the first time that there’s something…off about her. There’s a hardened glint in her eye, something he has never seen. Even though her words are soft, there is something deeper, darker to her features.

This must be the beginning of what Skywalker has feared.

Kylo stifles a grin.

But then he becomes too eager, and he reaches to touch her hand, the same way he has done several times in their dreams, forgetting this is not the same. Rey’s eyes instantly widen and she takes a step back, dropping his helmet to the ground.

It lands so harshly that for a moment Kylo thinks she has shattered it, but there it remains, black and reddened and ugly, and staring back at him. When he glances back at Rey, the hardened glint has intensified, but there is something else he senses, something she is taking care to hide from him.

Fear.

As she fades, he thinks perhaps she is putting the pieces together.

 

\---

 

He dreams of a torrential downpour. She’s standing there coated in blue. She drives her saber through his chest, and he thanks her.

He wakes up sweating.

It is another day of waiting for repairs, and destroying unsuspecting droids and waiting. He goes to bed that night with no new developments besides the bruising on his knuckles under his gloves.

This time when he dreams she is there, she is _really_ there. She sits on the throne on the destroyed _Supremacy_. She is bathed in white, a color he won’t acknowledge he is regrettably growing to like on her.

He is quick to approach, knowing their time is probably limited before Skywalker is upon them. His uncle has a tendency to lurk.

He takes her hands in his and bends down to kiss her clumsily. Her hands squeeze his, but she pulls back her head, gently detaching her lips.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice scratchy.

She frowns. “You’re angry.”

“No, I’m-”

“I can feel it radiating off of you.”

His grip tightens on her hands, and her cheek muscle jumps in what he thinks is a wince. He releases her.

“Where are you?” he questions, and it almost sounds like begging.

The hard glint flashes in her eyes, but it is so fleeting Kylo is not even sure it was there to begin with.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Rey.” He’s so close to pleading; he can feel it on the tip of his tongue.

“I can’t tell you because of my friends. You would destroy them.”

“Yes,” he says bluntly.

“And you would do so even if it causes me pain?” The question is genuine, and it takes him aback. She shakes her head when he doesn’t answer. “I feel like I lose you more and more every day.”

He stays silent.

Rey brings her hands to fiddle with them in her lap. “If this weren’t a dream, I wouldn’t say…”

His breath catches in his throat. “Wouldn’t say what?”

When her eyes meet his they are burning and miserable and sympathetic and loving, and it’s been ages since he’s seen someone look at him like that and not have him become bitter as a result.

“I want you to be my family too.” 

Something warm and vague grows in his chest, and he doesn’t even realize that maybe he should be upset she is placing him on the same level as Dameron and the traitor.

It’s hard to be nit-picky when her lips find his this time.

She stands up with him and his arms coil around her, his hands tangling in her hair. Their mouths, sloppy and unpracticed begin to mold around each other in a rhythm. When he pushes his tongue into her mouth, she pushes back just as strongly, and he hardens against her.

Even as they kiss, Kylo can feel Skywalker in the back of his brain, trying to push through. He shoves him back violently, using the anger that was able to quell him before.

The result is he accidently squeezes Rey rather harshly.

“Ben,” she says, taking a step back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he murmurs, leaning in again, but she places a hand against his chest.

“Is this you?” she asks again, and her voice becomes hard, calculating.

His blood chills. He doesn’t want to answer this. He needs more time to sway her. He needs more of an opportunity for her to see what’s right.

For once, Skywalker is a saving grace.

As Kylo’s defenses weaken, his uncle appears abruptly, automatically extending his hand, as if he means to stop something horrifying. Kylo’s body lurches to the side from the impact of the Force, and he lands in a tangled mess on the marble floor.

“Huh,” Skywalker says, scratching his chin. “I may have misjudged the situation.”

Rey looks around. “Master Luke?” she calls, before she disappears.

Kylo lies belly up and wheezing, for once in too much pain to mourn her departure. He barely registers his uncle walking up beside him until the man nudges him with his boot.

“Oh, you’ll live,” Skywalker tells him with a roll of his eyes. “I told you if you continued this I wouldn’t go easy on you.”

“It’s not…your…fucking business,” Kylo gasps childishly, sitting up and grasping his ribs.

“You made it my business.”

Kylo glares up at his uncle, wishing for all the stars that he was alive just so he could cut him down. Skywalker didn’t deserve the peaceful death he got.

“How long, Ben?” he inquires tiredly.

Kylo shouldn’t humor him, but he does. “How long what?” he spits.

“How long until you realize you’re killing her?”

When Kylo wakes up his ribs are sore and his eyes are wet, and he has no idea why.

 

\---

 

When an officer tells him the delay will extend another day, Kylo throws him into a wall without pausing in his journey down the corridor. He can’t give two fodders about the ship’s repairs at this point. He’s tired of waiting.

“Are you entirely mental?” Hux demands as he slides into his TIE silencer.

“I’ll be back in three days,” Kylo says neutrally, his face covered and his voice altered.

“And what the hell am I supposed to do while you’re off lollygagging with that filthy scavenger whore-”

Hux is thrown across the room and left to writhe in his own doing.

Kylo prepares to take flight.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the hilarious comments and for taking the time to leave kudos!

His heart picks up as he catches flashes from her. They hum in his mind as the controls of his silencer vibrate under his grasp. She walks with a browned face and sweaty hairline. Sand swirls beneath her feet. She’s in an open clearing, trapped in a bowl of yellow and orange mountains.

She’s alone.

Kylo comes out of light speed and dips his silencer, preparing to break the atmosphere of Jakku. She could be anywhere, but he trusts in the Force to show him her exact location.

He can sense her presence, closer and closer still. His heartbeat patters wildly, and he begins to perspire underneath his mask.

It has been nearly six months since he has seen her.

He passes through a veil of clouds in his dissent, and then there is nothing but thin yellow fog and orange landscapes. He can feel her churning emotions as she pauses in her travels, and even though he can’t see her, he knows she has turned to look at him.

As he breaks through another barrier of clouds he dips his silencer until he glides along the ground. There is a glint from the sun, and then she appears.

She’s like a speck, an insect in the distance, but he can feel her breath as if she is right beside him. Her saber is drawn and hangs limply at her side-apparently she’s fixed it. As his silencer approaches, she turns abruptly and ignites her weapon, and he becomes curious. Is she testing him?

He slowly increases the speed of his silencer with a push on the controls, and her image grows the closer he gets. She turns her head and starts to run, and he goes after her, wondering what she is doing.

He should slow down. He’s going to run her over. But he keeps going. He increases his speed. Somehow he knows he won’t hurt her. He wants to see what she has learned in their time apart.

Just as it seems he may collide with her body, she lurches into the air, flipping over his silencer, and Kylo’s head jerks up to follow her. He is no longer curious, but alarmed as her saber cuts the back half of his craft. She must land somewhere behind him, but he has his own problems now. His silencer bobs in the air before it crashes to the ground, skidding brutally along the vast, sandy landscape.

Kylo grunts from the impact, using the Force to slow the crash as best he can. When the vessel finally stops, his helmet has been reduced to a chipped heap, and half his body is pinned beneath twisted metal.

With a furious roar, he uses the arm that is free to blow the cracked glass cover several feet away from him. As soon as it is gone, the unyielding sun pounds on his body, greedy for his black clothing. He yells in frustration, too incensed to listen to the approaching footsteps.

When he sees her blue blade he reacts on instinct, and he uses his free hand to ignite his saber and slash wildly in her direction. Their blades clash a few times before she steps back and screams “Stop!”

Her ferocity in the single word stuns him into silence. She takes another step back and raises a hand, and the metal that traps him gradually lifts from his body.

When he is free she extinguishes her saber, and he does the same, no longer sensing a threat. He stumbles from the craft and removes the remains of his helmet, throwing the pieces onto the sand. He can feel the left half of his face coated in blood, and when he blinks a trickle of it runs into his eyes. They stare at each other irately, breathing heavily.

After several moments of silence, Rey throws up her arms. “What was your plan?”

Kylo merely wipes at his bloody nose.

She blinks with a mixture of disbelief and fury before she huffs and marches away. She rounds the corner of his broken craft, and he follows her.

“Rey-”

She whips around. “Are you alone?”

He pauses. “Yes.”

She narrows her eyes, searching his face. Her gaze is unnerving.

“Good,” she says at last. She turns her back on him again and continues walking. When Kylo just stares after her she glances over her shoulder. “Are you coming or not?”

 

\---

 

Kylo realizes three things very quickly. The first is that he is right in assuming Rey is here by herself. The second is he may be more injured than he first realized. The third is that Jakku fucking sucks.

They walk for nearly an hour in silence, and the sun is setting by the time he recognizes their surroundings. The AT-AT is even more sunken into the sand than it was when he entered her memories. It’s a wonder it hasn’t been entirely covered. Rey has to bend down and move some of the sand that has piled in the entrance with the Force. She steps inside without waiting for him to follow.

He does, if only to get out of the sun. He leans heavily against the metal siding, his tongue heavy from dehydration and his hair plastered to his cheeks with sweat. The blood on his face has mostly dried to a crust, and he claws at it with a gloved hand.

Rey disappears into another section of the AT-AT and then remerges with a canteen. She shoves it at him, and he looks at her before he chugs the container dry. He hands her the canteen when he is finished, and she disappears again.

Kylo uses her absence to remove his gloves, outerwear and shirt. He rubs his face with the material, collecting some of the blood with it. He brushes back his sweaty hair as he sits on the ground, trying to catch his breath.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rey sputters when she rounds the corner and sees him half naked. He notices she has medical supplies in her hands.

He is too exhausted to feel smug at her discomfort. “It’s hot,” he grunts, rather obviously.

She shuts her eyes briefly and takes an exasperated breath before she kneels down beside him. She removes a cloth and dampens it with bacta before she spreads it over one side of his face. Her movements are methodical.

“I don’t think it will scar this time,” she mutters as she works. “Which is good for your sake.”

He is eerily still and very self conscious about how sweaty he is. If it bothers her, however, she doesn’t make it known.

“Why are you here?” he murmurs.

She finishes tending to his face and places the supplies back into the kit.

“I wanted to see my parents,” she answers, looking at the supplies. She freezes and then finally meets his eyes. “Did you warn the Order?”

“I’m alone,” he reminds her, “but they know where I am.”

He thinks he can see her pale, and he regrets telling the truth. She stands.

“We shouldn’t be here together,” she says suddenly, and she seems annoyed with herself. “I shouldn’t have brought you here.”

He scowls. “It’s the least you can do after nearly killing me.”

“I wasn’t _trying_ to kill you. If I was, you would know.”

Her eyes are dark, but not with rage. Kylo watches her closely as she glares at him, and he realizes he doesn’t like this version of Rey. He doesn’t like what she’s becoming, what he’s _making_ her become.

He looks away, choosing to deal with his mistakes later. “Leave me then. You’ve done it before.”

He’s angry with himself for how hurt he sounds, but he can’t help it. He _is_ hurt. Kylo sneaks a glance at her, and his chest aches when she looks like she is considering it. Then she sighs and moves across the room to sit on her bunk.

“I have nowhere to go until tomorrow anyway,” she tells him. “We may as well spend the night here.” She nods to his discarded shirt. “You’re going to want that. It gets cold.”

She’s right.

A few rather uncomfortable hours later, the sun sinks and the wind picks up and even though Kylo is now fully clothed, his teeth chatter. Rey’s back is to him as she lies in her bunk. She has a thin blanket over her body, but he can see the tension in her limbs as she curls into herself. He already knows he’s not going to be able to sleep tonight. Not like this.

“H-how did you m-manage it?” he questions, his voice piercing the silence of the night like a knife. “All those years.”

He watches her shoulders tense. “I don’t know,” she says quietly.

His head leans back against the metal, and he closes his eyes, running his gloved hands over his arms again and again. It doesn’t help.

She mutters something so softly Kylo thinks he might have imagined it.

“What?”

“Never mind,” she snaps quickly, and he frowns, but doesn’t press the matter. Several minutes later, another gust of wind swirls outside, prickling his skin. Rey sighs noisily. “I said you can get in,” she says, her back still to him.

“Get in?”

“The bunk.”

Kylo’s eyes widen as he gazes at her back. Her voice is hard, and filled with heavy irritation, but he can tell it is more directed at herself than it is at him.

He’s suddenly nervous. “You don’t…”

“I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t have to would I?” she retorts, and her shoulders are practically raised to her ears.

Kylo gets up slowly, watching her form in the dark. His footsteps echo almost painfully loudly as he crosses the small space, and she shifts over to make room for him in the bunk.

That tiny, tiny bunk.

He lifts the end of the blanket and settles in beside her, gloves and shoes and all. It hurts to lie on the left side of his face, so he turns so his back is to her. It’s probably for the best anyway. He closes his eyes, trying not to think about her spine against his.

When he opens his eyes again, he is on a beach.

Rey appears a little ways off, practicing with her staff and twirling it expertly. She notices him, and then continues to train as if he isn’t there. He approaches her cautiously, remembering the black look in her eyes from earlier, and he swallows painfully.

He knows what he has to do.

“Have you come to watch me train?” she questions, twisting her staff once more before sticking it in the sand.

He comes up to her, and she looks mildly suspicious, but then she smiles at him, and it’s almost dazzling.

“What is it Ben?” She folds her arms. “Are you finally going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“Do you remember when you asked me if this was real?” he murmurs, and it takes all his willpower to keep his eyes on her face. “If I was really here?”

Rey looks confused for one long moment, but then he sees his question has led to an answer. She blinks rapidly, and then takes a step back.

“No. You…you can’t be real. I would have felt it. I…I would have known.”

He tries to take her hand, but she flinches away. “Why are you doing this?” She’s so angry, but there are tears in her eyes. “Every time I think you’re changing you…you do something like this and…” She doesn’t finish, but she’s shaking her head aggressively, trying to process this.

Kylo feels sick to his stomach. He catches a glimpse of movement over her shoulder and he looks up to find Skywalker standing several paces behind Rey. He just frowns at his nephew.

Kylo’s too busy looking at his uncle to prepare for when Rey punches him directly in the face.

He wakes up gasping, the left side of his face aching, and he realizes he has turned in the night to lie on it. He raises his head to ease some of the pressure, and that’s when he realizes Rey is glaring at him in the dark.

“Get out,” she whispers.

Needless to say, Kylo spends the rest of the night on the floor.

 

\---

 

Kylo knows he has done the ‘right thing’ by telling her the truth-her mind will no longer be affected from their dreams now that she knows-but the repercussions have been awful. What is the point of doing something good if it just ends up screwing him over?

He wakes before her and watches her sleep. She is facing him now, and her mouth is open, a trail of saliva leaking onto her tattered pillow. The thin sheet has slipped to her thigh, and a thin line of sunlight lands on her arm from the entrance of the AT-AT.

Kylo gets up quietly to relieve himself outdoors. As he squints in the sunshine, it occurs to him that his men are most likely not coming for him. This should make him nervous or furious, it should terrify him even, but he can’t seem to care. Hux is probably thrilled he’s gone anyway.

When he reenters the shelter, his stomach growls loud enough to rouse Rey. Her eyelids flutter open and as awareness begins to take over, a fierce look crosses her face. She gets up abruptly and moves to the back of the AT-AT. Kylo notices the hard glint in her eyes has vanished, and somehow that’s a consolation for him.

When she reappears she tosses him a portion and then chews into her own, licking her fingers like an animal. Kylo watches with disdain as he takes a dainty bite of his own meal. When they are finished, Rey slings a small sack over her shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Kylo demands.

“To find my parents,” she grunts without looking at him, and she exits the AT-AT.

He follows her. “You’re just going to stumble blindly into the desert?”

“I’ve seen visions of their graves ever since you told me about them. I know the general direction now.” She takes out a hood to cover her head from the sun, her staff in her other hand. “Stay here. I’ll be back by dusk.”

“You’re not going to strand me here,” Kylo snaps, more out of apprehension than anger. He doesn’t exactly trust her to return.

She must sense this because she pauses to look at him. “I’ll be back at dusk, Ben,” she repeats, this time with meaning, but her eyes are thick with distrust and betrayal. She’s still vexed it seems.

Kylo mutters to himself as he retreats inside the AT-AT. He wishes he could say it was a mistake to have come here, but he knows he would be lying to himself.

He has nothing else to do, so he lies on her bunk and counts the tallies on her wall. His hands soon become sweaty under his gloves, so he removes the clothing and tosses it to the floor. Then his shoes. Then his shirt. He’s still sweating, but now it’s not nearly as unbearable. He traces the tallies with his fingertip, imagining a younger Rey scratching them out each day.

He rests his hands on his chest and closes his eyes.

And then he jolts awake when he hears the clatter of her staff on the AT-AT floor, and he raises his head, mildly confused. She removes her hood, and pulls out a new canteen, drinking slowly from it before handing it to him. He takes it from her, noting how she is determinedly not looking at him.

He doesn’t need to ask if she’s managed to locate them. He can feel her disappointment filling the small space.

“It shouldn’t even matter to you if you find them,” he comments, trying to cheer her up. “They’re nothing but low-lifes.” Apparently this is the exact wrong thing to say.

Her head snaps to him, and her eyes widen with outrage. “It…it shouldn’t matter? I’ve spent my whole life waiting for them, and they’ve been _here_ this entire time and it _shouldn’t matter?_ ”

Her eyes prick with tears, and she’s clearly too furious at him or herself, so Kylo is glad when she retreats deeper into the shelter. He sits up and dresses himself again, not knowing at all what to do.

The pattern continues for the next two days. He lies awake on the floor shivering each night, and in the morning she fashions him a portion before she heads out. Kylo

sleeps in her bunk, and then she returns. One day she enters with a basin of water for bathing, for which Kylo is grateful. He stinks.

He doesn’t know how long her filthy rebel friends have given her to search for her parents, but he assumes that time is running out, for he can sense her growing desperation. He catches her muttering to herself often, and she probably doesn’t even know she is doing it.

On the fifth evening they spend together, Kylo steps outside to relieve himself when he spots her around the bend of the AT-AT. Her back is to him as she bends over the basin, but the smooth expanse of her back makes it clear to him that she is shirtless. He notices when she bends over that the vertebrae in her spine shift as she gathers more water. She runs it over her arms and chest, and she sighs at the feeling.

Kylo turns away so quickly his neck cracks, and he puts as much distance between them as humanely possible.

The following day Kylo has had enough of waiting.

“Let me come with you,” he insists, when she slings her sack around her shoulder. “I saw them first. I can find them again.”

“I don’t want you to come,” she replies stubbornly.

“How long until the rebels come for you?” He _should_ be asking how long until they come for _him,_ but right now that’s the furthest thing from his mind.

She remains silent.

“I’m coming,” he decides, ignoring how she scowls at him. He grabs a refilled canteen and then moves into the glaring sunlight, not waiting for her.

She ends up catching up to him anyway.

They travel for two hours in silence, and Kylo can feel the skin of his face burning. He must look awfully red, for Rey wordlessly hands him a rag from her sack, and he ties it around his head.

Another couple hours pass, and the sun begins to droop.

Rey swears loudly and suddenly, and Kylo nearly jumps.

“This is pointless,” she grunts, tugging at her headdress.

“You’re beginning to sound like me.”

She briefly forgets her touchiness to raise an eyebrow in his direction. Kylo can guess why. His statement sounded eerily like an attempt at a joke.

“We should just head back,” she continues, kicking idly at the sand.

“No,” Kylo responds, and she looks up in confusion. “We’re close.”

“How can you-”

“The land here drops off into a pit,” he explains, gesturing to the landscape around them. “Look at the ridges. It’s man made.”

Rey observes the land. “…You’re right.”

Then she races off without him, and Kylo blinks in outrage. She could at least have the decency to thank him couldn’t she?

She sails over the ditch and disappears from his line of vision. Kylo debates running after her, but that would be utterly _ridiculous_ , so he follows at a lazy pace. Eventually he finds her again, crouched in front of a measly bundle of bones, and he knows she has found them. It’s written all over her face.

She stares hard and unblinking at the remains of her parents. She reaches out a hand as if to touch one of their bones, but she pulls back at the last minute. Rey and Kylo linger there until it is completely dark. She does nothing but stare at the bones the entire time, and he just waits and watches silently. Finally, Rey rises and brushes past him, and he trails after her at a distance.

They get back a couple hours later, and Kylo is ready to collapse with exhaustion. The thought of spending the night on the cold, metal floor is not terribly inspiring either.

Rey places her things in their correct locations, and he watches her unsurely. Normally he is able to tell exactly how she is feeling, but for some reason she is a blank slate.

“Thank you,” she says softly, her voice shattering the silence. Although Kylo can barely see her in the dark, he can tell the grateful look she sends him is genuine.

He nods stiffly and then moves to ready himself for a horrible night’s sleep.

“Ben.”

He turns his head, not knowing what to expect. What he doesn’t expect is for her hand to slide into his. He walks robotically as she leads him into her bunk. She climbs in, and he pauses for only a moment before he does the same.

“This doesn’t mean anything,” she tells him, and he knows she’s means it, but somehow it means everything.

They fall asleep together, the edges of their hands touching. When Kylo opens his eyes, he finds her sitting on a windowsill, and he brushes her hair back from her shoulders. She’s dressed in a gown, and he’s wearing tan. If he didn’t already know this was a dream Kylo would assume their attire would be the obvious indicator.

He feels Skywalker behind his back, ready to intervene if necessary, but Kylo will not give him the satisfaction. He is thankful Rey’s back is turned, for he doesn’t particularly want to see them interact.

Her hand slips into his and she squeezes, but then Kylo feels himself starting to fade and his mind floods with alarm. He doesn’t want to wake up. He doesn’t want the peace of this dream to end.

When he feels himself lying in the bunk again, he realizes two things before he even opens his eyes. The first is that it’s still pitch dark. The second is that Rey is kissing him.

It takes his sleep-muddled mind only a split second to respond, but when he does, he opens his mouth to her and gathers her in his arms. This is the first time they have kissed without the aid of Force dreams, and it is somehow more wonderful and more nerve racking than ever before.

Kylo’s hands fumble around her body as their tongues move against each other, and he groans quietly as her hips brush against his. Her hands grasp the front of his shirt as he moves to her neck, turning her over onto her back.

His hand glides up her side, and he pauses to remove his gloves so he can feel her with his bare hands. He grabs the collar of her tunic and pulls it off her shoulder so he can kiss her skin more deliberately.

He jolts when she takes one of his hands and guides it over her breast. His palm stills against her, and although there is fabric separating their skin, he can feel her warmth. He squeezes gently, staring down at his hand, and he hears her strained breathing. Becoming more confident, he applies more pressure, reveling at how her body gives a light jolt.

He rests over her as he captures her mouth again, and he knows she must be able to feel his desire for her. He experimentally grinds against her, grunting when she pushes back with her hips.

_“Oh,”_ he hears her gasp, and another pulse of blood rushes to his groin. “Keep doing that.”

“This?” he asks, rolling his hips. She shudders against him, and Kylo thanks all the stars in the galaxy that Skywalker isn’t here to kill the vibe this time.

“Show me,” he commands softly in her ear, with another grind of his hips. “Show me how you touch yourself.”

Rey takes his hand with her own shaky one, and guides it into the pants of her uniform. He feels the soft brush of her hair, and then the warm wetness of her folds, and he stifles another groan. She uses his fingers to spread the front of her lips, and then his middle finger finds the bud between her legs.

“Circles,” she directs him. “Clockwise. Hard and fast.”

Kylo’s lips twitch against her neck despite himself. Her pragmatism is showing.

He does as she says, sometimes moving not quite right, or sometimes losing his place entirely. Occasionally she reaches down to make some adjustments or angle his wrist a certain way, but finally he seems to be getting the hang of it.

He wants to stick his fingers inside of her. He wants to feel how wet she is for him, but she seems to be thoroughly enjoying what he is doing, and he doesn’t want to mess it up.

Her gasps become more frequent, and when she starts whispering his name, he can’t help but grind against her thigh as he works. He watches her face in the darkness as she climbs closer, her back arching off the bunk and her face twisted in concentrated pleasure.

“Ben,” she gasps, “I… _oh.”_

“It’s okay,” he half-groans, his hand moving rapidly.

With a few more circles her body shudders, and she cries softly as he finishes her. His eyes lock on her face, watching greedily as she rides out her climax. She comes down panting, her eyelids heavy in the dark.

His grinding slows to a halt, and despite his own lack of release he finds his hesitation outweighs his desire. He stares at her carefully, wondering what she will do next.

She blinks at him. “Get on your back.”

It seems he isn’t the only one capable of making commands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. I wonder what Luke has to say about this development.


	4. Chapter 4

His breath comes out heavy, and she hasn’t even touched him yet. She fumbles with his belt in the dark. Hurried, clumsy kisses are pressed to his lips and jawline. When his cock springs free he takes her hand, but he pauses when he notices her intense staring.

The sun has begun to rise, offering him a better glimpse of her facial expressions. She’s scrutinizing him from every angle, biting her lip in her examination. While Kylo isn’t normally self-conscious about his body, he has to say she is doing a remarkable job of making him feel exactly that.

She wraps her hand around him experimentally, rubbing slowly. He grips her wrist with a wince.

“Did I do something wrong?” she asks curiously, her voice slightly scratchy from sleep.

“You have to…lubricate it.”

“With what?”

He blinks. “Saliva is adequate.”

She raises an eyebrow, but she spits aggressively into her hand before moving it over him once more. He guides her hand for the first several movements, showing her the pace he likes. She’s a quick learner.

Kylo closes his eyes as his head falls back against the pillow. How often has he dreamed of her touching him like this? How often has he pictured her doing exactly this to him while he was in the ‘fresher?

He chokes back a groan as her thumb rubs over a spot just under his head, and with a few more thrusts he’s coming into her hand.

She makes a small noise of surprise, and he wonders if perhaps he should have warned her. When he comes down, he leans over and feels around for one of her rags on the floor, before securing one and wiping off her hand.

“Is it always like that?” Rey questions after her hand is clean, and Kylo has tucked himself away.

“Like what?”

“Over so fast?”

Kylo chokes on his own spit. He coughs to clear his throat. “It wasn’t that fast,” he argues, if only to preserve his dignity.

“It was to me.”

“Females are different,” he protests, and when she raises an eyebrow he adds, “or so I’ve heard.”

“You’ve never…?”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” he retorts, although it’s fruitless. Surely she can already tell, if not by his mannerisms then from their connection. After all, he already knows her life story.

She lies down next to him, turning over on her side, so her back is to him. “Alright then. Good night, or, er, good morning I suppose.”

Kylo grunts and shifts away from her. He stares at the wall of the AT-AT until he feels her shift into sleep. Despite literally being satisfied by the woman beside him, he can’t help but feel something has been missing from the interaction.

The following night they do not engage in any similar activities, even in their dreams. Don’t get him wrong; he _wants_ to, almost desperately. But he doesn’t know how to broach the topic.

He hates feeling this way, and it certainly doesn’t help that Rey seems content to sleep soundly beside him. He wonders if she only initiated their midnight encounter out of curiosity or perhaps a desire to be close to someone after an emotionally taxing day. For some reason the prospect of being used in such a way leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Which is ridiculous. Kylo Ren doesn’t get used by people. He uses them. End of story. 

The following morning she leaves, presumably for the Niima Outpost to gather more portions. He takes the time to plan his next step.

The rebels will come for her soon. They have to. They will not abandon their prized token of honor and Light on a junkyard planet. And when they do come, Kylo would rather not be there.

But he doesn’t want to leave either. He doesn’t think he can handle going back to hazy dreams and fleeting touches now that he’s had her in his bed, hearing her voice and feeling everything she feels.

In the end, fate makes a decision for him. He hears the distant whirl of engines, and he senses several approaching presences. He emerges from the shelter with his saber drawn, and for a moment he cannot believe his eyes.

Ships. Dozens of them. Resistance and First Order. So Hux has decided to send for him after all. How touching.

Their timing is impeccable, considering this also seems to be the day the rebels find Jakku. They exchange violent laser fire even as they descend, smaller vessels twisting through the air to avoid and attack their enemies. Kylo hears an explosion to his far right, and he squints his eyes in that direction.

The thing about being in a vile desert such as this, is even if something is miles away, you can catch a glimpse. What he catches is the Niima Outpost, erupting in flames.

Something dies in his chest, and then his feet are moving.

He breaks into a full sprint, sweat pouring off his forehead and his saber swinging at his side. He must run a mile at least before a First Order craft notices him. It lands in front of him, opening its doors, and for a moment Kylo considers ignoring it.

Then he feels Rey’s fury at her enemies surging in his veins, and he almost collapses in relief. He glances up at the sky, and, noticing the multiplying Resistance ships, he makes a decision.

He boards the ship.

When he is back on the _Finalizer_ , Hux gives him an earful.

“And you should be _lucky_ we were able to destroy more ships than they did ours, for that is the _only_ success from the long string of nuisances it took to get you back while you were off flouncing with sand rats-”

After the four-minute mark, Kylo shoves Hux aside with the Force and retreats to his chamber. He scrubs himself clean of sand and sweat, but he can still smell the Jakku sun in his nostrils.

He should be happy. She was opening up to him. She was accepting him, wasn’t she? Sure, he has realized she can never join him in the Dark, but still, she can join him with the way she is now.

A balance. A balance worth waiting for.

But then he remembers the relaxed pleasure on her face, and he becomes enveloped in miserable greed.

At the end of the day, she is still there, and he is still here.

 

\---

 

“Ben!”

He turns to find her running towards him, and he knows he must be asleep. She has a relieved smile on her face, but she comes to an abrupt stop inches from him. He watches conflict cross her features, and he knows she must be recalling the Resistance ships lost during the battle. Her smile fades as she remembers himself, and she regards him coolly.

“I couldn’t feel you that well after the explosion,” she supplies. “I thought you had perished.”

Kylo nods. “I thought the same of you.”

They stand there awkwardly.

“I thought you were going to come back with me,” Rey says at last. “Maybe if I had been there with you, you would have-”

“Don’t be absurd,” Kylo interrupts. “I’d rather die than turn myself over to the Resistance.”

Rey’s face twists with frustration. “When will you learn this isn’t the way?”

“I could ask you the same thing.”

She makes a sudden, feral noise of exasperation that takes Kylo aback. She sinks to her knees and grips at her hair, breathing heavily. Against his better judgment, he sinks beside her.

“I thought you had changed,” she murmurs into her hands. “I could feel you the moment I found my parents. I could feel you afterwards, in my dreams.” She raises her head and stares at him, but without much malice this time. “You think about leaving the Order. You think about giving it all up, about taking a life sentence if you must.” Her gaze burns him. “You want to be with me.”

He swallows heavily, foolishly not realizing how bare his innermost thoughts are to her.

“Yes,” he croaks, knowing they are beyond lying to each other.

She takes his bare hand. “Come home, Ben.”

He doesn’t know who leans in first, but he sighs against her when their lips touch. She curls into him deliciously, one of her hands reaching into his hair as he grips her waist. Her tongue slides into his mouth, and he thinks they’re finally both getting the hang of this.

He can feel her conflict through their connection. She is miserable and hopeful and desperate for him to understand, and for a moment, he thinks he might.

She cups his face gently with her fingertips, kissing him so softly she almost isn’t even there. He feels her spine arch as he travels up her side, crossing over her chest and coming to one of her breasts. He cups it in his hand, squeezing lightly.

“I really didn’t need to see that.”

They leap apart so violently that Rey loses her balances and falls back onto her elbows.

“M-Master Luke!” Rey sputters from the ground, shock radiating from every feature. This _is_ the first time she sees him after all.

Skywalker raises one eyebrow. “Hello again, Rey.”

She rises to her feet, dusting herself off. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh really?” Skywalker says, and his fucking eyebrow seems like it could get caught in his hairline. “And all the other times were just accidents?”

Rey blanches. She raises a finger and points it at Ben then Luke and then back to Ben, as if she’s having trouble deciding whom to yell at for being creepy.

Kylo rises. “I think you’ve proven your point, Uncle,” he says icily, making sure to make the address sound like a curse word.

“I don’t understand,” Rey states, apparently getting over the shock of the moment. “If you had the capability to appear to me, why wait to do so?”

“It’s not so simple. I can only appear if you are consciously aware you are dreaming.” His eyes sweep over Kylo. “I thought you were going to cut out this nonsense.”

Kylo’s entire face has become bright red, and he feels very much like a youngling being scolded for something naughty. It certainly doesn’t help that Rey is staring at him curiously.

“I haven’t agreed to anything,” Kylo responds through gritted teeth.

Rey rests a hand on his shoulder, and then turns to her former mentor. “Master Luke, could we get a moment?”

Skywalker shrugs. “I’ll be over here.” He retreats to a corner and stands, watching from a distance.

“He’s still looking!” Kylo hisses to Rey childishly, and she rolls her eyes.

“You really didn’t think to mention to me that he’s been here this whole time?”

He huffs. “I’ve only just told you this is a Force connection. Give me some credit.”

“If that’s where we’re setting the bar, that is truly depressing.”

Kylo runs a hand over his face. “Rey, as much as I enjoy…whatever this is,” he gestures between them, “I draw the line at having him lurking in the shadows.”

“If you had just been upfront and honest with me about your intentions from the start, he wouldn’t have to lurk,” she argues.

He gawks at her. “Are you taking _his_ side?”

“Sounds like it,” Skywalker calls from over in his corner.

“STOP LISTENING!”

“I think I should go,” Rey says, sighing. “This is all becoming too much.”

Kylo feels alarm and disappointment bloom in his chest. “No. Don’t go yet, please.”

Rey looks at him sadly. “If you were here with me, if you were _really_ here, I wouldn’t ever have to go.”

And then she wakes herself up.

Kylo sends a particularly murderous glare at his uncle before doing the same. As consciousness kicks in, he slams his fist into his bedside table. He sits up, tugging at his hair.

He wants to be by her side so badly it hurts. No, that’s not right. He wants _her_ to be by _his_ side. Kylo curses. He doesn’t know what he wants anymore.

 _That’s not true,_ his traitorous mind kicks in. He wants to wake up with her every morning. He wants to kiss her freckles and hear about her day. He’ll listen to anything, as long as it’s not about Dameron. He wants to spar with her, and hold her at night, and change the galaxy with her. He wants to belong.

He wants all of it so badly it feels like he’s being pierced with the plasma quarrel of Chewie’s bowcaster again. He would do anything to have that future with her. To _have her._

Does that include turning himself in to the Resistance?

He isn’t sure anymore.

 

\---

 

A few days pass, and Kylo misses her. He has been busy out his mind between tedious meetings and tracking the Resistance, and he knows the later should be a vested interest, but he’s still caught between annihilating them and turning himself in to them.

Thank Maker the Knights of Ren are out on separate missions. At least here, there is no one aboard the _Finalizer_ that could potentially intrude on his thoughts.  

He’s in the ‘fresher one day, scrubbing the sweat from his body when he feels the connection of the Force. He stares at Rey as she appears before him. She has her mouth open like she is about to ask him something, but she freezes when she notices his state. He watches with mild amusement as her mouth flops like a fish, and then she promptly turns around.

“Don’t tell me you’re modest now,” Kylo prods, his voice calm despite the unnerving and thrilling feeling of having her see him naked. “You weren’t that way on Jakku.”

“It was dark then,” she protests, staring at the ground.

“Aren’t you curious?” he asks, remembering her scrutinizing eyes. When she doesn’t answer, he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “I don’t mind,” he adds, brushing his wet hair back from his face.

Rey slowly turns to look at him, and he’s only mildly surprised when her eyes go straight to his cock. He hears her mutter something along the lines of “this is mad,” but he can’t be sure.

He closes his eyes and finishes washing himself, pretending she isn’t there. He can feel himself harden slightly with her eyes on him like this, and he wonders if she notices. Eventually he leans over and turns the ‘fresher off, then moves to dry himself with a towel.

He’s sliding his pants on when he finally asks, “Did you have something to ask me?”

Rey’s eyes snap to his face as she remembers herself. Kylo enjoys seeing her cheeks flood with color.

“I wanted to know if you’ve thought about what I said.”

“What’s that?”

She twists her hands. “If you…if you were going to come home.”

He narrows his eyes as he straightens. “Who are you asking for? Leia?”

“I’m asking for _you,_ Ben. Why can’t you see that?”

He looks away. “I don’t understand why you’d want me to come back,” he says quietly. “After everything.”

She comes up to him and grips his forearm. “You’re a stupid git. You know that, don’t you?”

He pivots his head, and she’s smiling that soft smile again, and there he is, tricking himself into feeling like he belongs. His large hands cup her face, and without warning he smashes his wet lips to hers, his hair raining droplets on her forehead. She makes a small noise as she places her palms on his bare chest, moving her lips fervently.

He breaks the kiss, only to breathlessly murmur against her lips, “I want to take you to bed.”

She opens her eyes. “You…you what?”

“I want to…you know what I mean, don’t you?”

She punches his chest. “Ben Solo, I have _some_ knowledge of these things.”

He pulls his head back as his nostrils flare. “How? With whom? Dameron?”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response.”

He grumbles in annoyance before deciding to let it go.

“Do you want to?” he continues, rubbing his thumbs along her cheeks.

She frowns. “Like this? Through the bond?”

“How else would-”

She takes a step back from him. “I…”

He doesn’t hear her finish, because the Force breaks them apart at that moment.

 

\---

 

Kylo spends the next several days deep in thought. He barely sleeps, so he does not see Rey often, and when the Force connects them, he is often too unfocused to keep the connection open for long.

He was so certain for so many years that this was the path, that the Dark would be his salvation. Now he wonders if it was all a waste.

Could he ever find himself in a place where he can be happy? It seems foolish to wish for something so childish, but the sense of belonging that has accumulated over the past several weeks only cements the idea he has wasted his life.

There are some days where he scoffs at himself and resumes his normal Supreme Leader duties. Even so, he is thankful the Order has not come into contact again with the Resistance, not when he is feeling the way he is.

When he collapses onto his mattress one night, he settles into a muddled sleep. At once he is in an empty room, and he stares at his hands. The image of himself is so clear he knows this isn’t a normal dream, yet he cannot see Rey.

“She won’t be joining us,” his uncle says from behind him.

“Fuck,” Kylo mutters. Can’t he catch a break?

Skywalker stands a decent ways away, which is good because Kylo doesn’t trust himself not to lash out. The older man subconsciously flexes his cybernetic hand as he surveys his nephew, and Kylo doesn’t like the look in his eye.

“The conflict within you has reached a breaking point.”

Kylo scoffs. “Spare me the analysis.”

Skywalker raises an eyebrow. “Why do you have such a fascination with Rey?”

“She’s powerful in the Force-”

“Surely that’s not the only reason.” Skywalker looks meaningfully at him.

Kylo sputters. “What are you implying you filthy, old-”

Skywalker raises a hand. “That’s not what I meant, although it _is_ interesting that your mind chose to go that way.”

Kylo sulks.

His uncle shakes his head. “No. I mean what is it about her that draws you to her?”

“The Force, obviously-”

“Perhaps the not so obvious parts then?”

Kylo knows what he means. He wants to know what is it about Rey that makes him think the Light could be a better option. He wants to know why he’s drawn to her, and why it seems less like giving in and more like letting something wonderful happen.

If Kylo had a close relationship with his uncle, he would tell him what Rey puts on for everyone else and what she really is are two entirely different things. He would tell him that beneath the smiles and determination and the power, there is a fragile loneliness that comes from the abandonment from those you love. He would say there is something delicate in the isolation of the Force, something so beautiful and bitter that it makes Kylo want to claw at himself to breathe. He would say Rey sees things in him that he himself will never admit out loud, but he is glad someone else does.

He would say with her, it’s the closest thing he will ever get to love, or what he imagines love to be like, but even if it isn’t, it is the sweetest consolation prize.

But Kylo doesn’t have a close relationship with his uncle, so he just replies, “I don’t have to tell you anything.” He means to say it harshly, but it comes out choked and broken.

Skywalker’s face sets in sad smile. “You already have.”

When Kylo wakes up, he moves slowly, deliberately. He pauses to stare around the emptiness of his chamber, the echoes of his breath filling the space. He draws the hood of his cape over his head and attaches his saber to his belt. He stalks out the room, down the corridors, passing Stormtroopers and officials alike. None of them approach him. None of them even look at him.

He finds an X-wing, one that is standard looking and kept up enough to easily launch into light speed if need be. He knows once he leaves, there won’t be much time until someone realizes something is amiss.

That’s fine. He only needs three minutes.

He climbs into the X-wing and fiddles with the controls, adjusting himself in the cramped space. He misses his TIE silencer, but Rey made damn sure he wouldn’t be flying _that_ again.

The hanger opens and with a few more maneuvers, Kylo launches into the air. He expects to feel a deep sense of foreboding, perhaps fear or dread at what is sure to be his approaching doom.

Instead, as he launches into deep space, all he can think of are her freckled cheeks and a soft smile.


	5. Chapter 5

It takes Kylo almost two days to find the Resistance, and that’s mostly because following Rey’s Force signature is not an exact science. She doesn’t know he’s coming, mostly because he’s still struggling with the decision himself. Even as he nears the goal of his journey, he can’t shake the feeling that he is making a colossal mistake.

Well, it’s too late now.

About thirty-two hours into his journey Kylo feels the Force shift around him, and soon he spots a cluster of ships in his eye line. Sure enough, his father’s blasted ship is there, hovering over the Resistance’s main vessel.

Yes, definitely a mistake.

Kylo fumbles with the controls and wonders how fast he can get this craft into light speed, but within moments he’s swarmed on all sides. Now he can’t even hope to escape without annihilating himself in the process.

The ships guide him to the main vessel, and he grips his controls so tightly he is surprised they don’t break. His teeth grind together almost painfully. His muscles are wrought with tension, and his hand falls to his saber. No doubt he will have to use it.

As his ship lands in the hangar, he can see a number of rebels have gathered outside his ship. They cannot see into the craft, yet all of them have their blasters drawn as if they fear something terrible is inside. They aren’t wrong.

He clicks open the cover and a chorus of gasps and harsh muttering echoes in the hangar.

“Is that-”

“No, it can’t be-”

“Why is he here-”

Kylo’s hand tightens around his saber as he starts to rise.

“Don’t move!” one rebel shouts, aiming the blaster at his heart.

Kylo ignores him and clambers out of the cramped craft, his cloak falling down behind him.

“Freeze!” another rebel shouts, and Kylo does stop this time, if only to see if he can play nice first.

“Take me to Rey,” he commands.

There is silence save for the rustling of orange clothing. In fact, it is so quiet Kylo is able to hear one of them mutter, “Cuff him,” and that will simply not do.

So much for playing nice.

Kylo whips out his hand and dozen rebels fall to the ground. Blaster fire is on him in an instant, but his saber is already ignited and he dodges the attacks easily. He advances, and the lines of rebels fall back, yet continue firing fiercely. He might have to kill them, he realizes, which probably isn’t the best way to start off, but have they really given him much of a choice?

“Stop!”

The rebels, and even Kylo pauses at the command. At first he is slightly relieved that he does not have to decide between sparing and slaughtering the rebels, but his expression turns sour when he recognizes Poe Dameron.

The pilot’s hair seems to have grayed more in the past six months, and Kylo can only hope that it has been a terrible time for him.

Hey, just because he’s turned himself over, doesn’t mean he’s beyond petty rivalries.

Dameron walks forward, and the rebels part the sea for their god. He has one hand slung in his pocket, but despite the casual swagger that emanates from his posture, his face is one filled with pure anger and loathing. Kylo returns the glare with just as much venom.

Dameron’s bottom lip puffs out slightly as he surveys him, his eyes rolling over him slowly as if to emphasize how unimpressed he is.

“Who talks first?” Kylo spits, and Dameron smirks.

“Who said I had to talk to you?”

 

\---

 

The cell they put him in is small, almost obnoxiously so, as if they are trying to prove a point. Kylo’s saber remains in his hand, and he truly believes the only reason he is allowed to keep it at present is simply because no one has the power to take it from him.

He waits in his cell for several hours, and while normally this attempt to ‘break him’ would incite fury, Kylo is content to sit on his bunk and feel the slight variations in the Force as Rey moves from one location to another. He wonders if she is aware he on board, if she is as hyperaware of him as he is of her.

When the cell door finally opens he stands, feeling a Force signature and expecting to see her. Instead he finds Leia.

He would be lying if he said he wasn’t at all unnerved by how little his mother has changed. The war has strengthened her, despite her side’s losses. If anything her jawline has become stronger, her eyes sharper, as if she is ready to incinerate anyone foolish enough to cross her.

Kylo thinks he’s probably crossed her more than a few times.

“What are you doing, Ben?” she asks, and Kylo can’t help the flinch that crosses his face. It’s eerie, how similar she sounds to Lu…er, to Skywalker in this moment.

“I’m not saying anything until I speak with Rey.”

Leia seems surprised by this, but not shocked. “You should be more concerned about your impending trial.”

“Yes, I suppose you’re eager to send me to my death.”

Leia frowns, and Kylo almost wants to take back the comment, but then wonders why he cares anyway.

“You’ve had a change of heart,” she observes, her eyes softening slightly, and Kylo stamps down traitorous thoughts. Thoughts that say he is glad there is something resembling pride and relief in his mother’s eyes.

“Call it what you want,” he brushes her off, looking to the side. “Now, bring me Rey.”

“Perhaps you don’t realize you are the one in a cell,” Leia continues, not thrown off by his bitter tone. “I don’t take orders from anyone, least of all my son.”

Kylo glares at her, but her gaze remains unwavering. He sees that he isn’t going to win this battle of wills with her, which is unfortunate, given he’s been known to run for years on his temper alone.

Leia’s eyes run over him. “I’ll see that you’re given rations and a trip to the ‘fresher. You have a foul stench about you.”

She turns and misses the absolutely indignant look on Kylo’s face.

Leia keeps her promise, for in the next hour he is given a serving of bland portions and then led to the ‘fresher. This time, he is not able to escape handcuffs, but his saber remains attached to his belt. This is insane. They must know it. What is the point of a cell when they know he can escape it whenever he wants? When he _has_ a weapon in his grasp?

That’s when he realizes they are testing him. Perhaps it is Dameron’s idea, or perhaps Leia’s. They want to see if he has actually turned himself in, or if this is some clever First Order ploy. Whatever. If it means he gets to keep his saber then they can have their little plan and pat themselves on the back.

When he has the privacy of the ‘fresher, he makes sure to take his time, not at all eager to get back to his cell. Eventually the guards knock on the stall door enough times that Kylo gets the message. He dresses silently, gets re-cuffed, and then follows them back to his lodgings.

He lies in his bunk that night, thinking over and over again that he can just escape if he does not truly want to be here. He has the means, after all. He can leave at any time. He can leave right now if he wants. Maybe take out some rebel scum along the way. Sear that smirk of Dameron’s face while he’s at it.

The thought is tempting.

Kylo is half-asleep when the door to his cell opens, and he is momentarily flooded with the light of the corridor, before he is encased in darkness once more. He sits up abruptly and he finds Rey, almost in a fighting stance, breathing heavily and her eyes fierce.

“Is this a trick?” she demands, wisps of hair falling out of her buns. “Ben Solo, is this a trick?”

“No,” he says seriously, and then when she doesn’t seem satisfied, he lays his thoughts out for her.

Her breathing goes quiet as she takes in his offer, an offer, which alone should be enough to convince her. When she is done processing everything he has given her, she straightens, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You came.”

He nods curtly. “It seems you’re not the only one who’s impulsive enough to ship themselves into enemy territory.”

In two strides she’s on him, gripping the front of his shirt and pressing her lips to his. He opens his mouth to her immediately, standing up and grasping her wrists. The room is so tiny that he needs only to walk her back a few feet until she is pressed up against the opposite wall. He lightly pins her wrists above her head as his mouth travels to her neck, sucking shamelessly.

“Remove your gloves,” she tells him, slightly out of breath.

He honors her request, and then he drops his cloak for good measure. His mouth attaches to hers again as his bare hands glide up her waist, smoothing over the curves hidden beneath her tunic.

“I want to see you,” he murmurs against her mouth. His fingers curl around the collar of her tunic, but he pauses. “Rey.”

She swallows. “I can’t stay long,” she whispers, and his stomach sinks. “I won’t be able to see you again until the trial.”

He releases her collar and buries his face in her neck, breathing deeply.

“They’ll sentence me to die.”

“No they won’t,” she argues. “I won’t let them.”

He pulls back from her. “It doesn’t matter what you do.”

She stares at him hard. “Maybe not, but this war isn’t over. If you promise to give information, if you promise to help the Resistance-” she ignores the way his lip curls, “they might spare you.”

“And then what?” he demands, his voice rising. He steps back and gestures to the room around him. “I live like this? Trapped like an animal?”

“I don’t know!” There are tears in her eyes now. “I don’t know.” She hangs her head, and then takes a deep breath to gather herself. When she looks up again, her eyes are dry. “But I won’t let you die. You came home, Ben. I’m so proud of you.”

Now _he_ feels like crying, which is fucking absurd. It’s a good thing she wraps her arms around him then, so she can’t see his face.

 

\---

 

It’s two weeks before he sees her again in person, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t _see_ her.

He glimpses her a few times in his dreams, but she is hesitant to even touch him, now that she knows Luke could intervene at any time. During the day he paces the room, thinking about her and even mediating for the first time in years. Anything to pass the time.

Once, when he is sitting on his bunk, the Force connects him and he catches a glimpse of her naked back and legs, presumably as she is about to get in the ‘fresher. He instantly looks away, his cheeks reddening, and he can sense her hesitance. Then, he catches movement out of the corner of his eye, and he looks up.

He does a double take when he realizes she has turned to face him. Her arms linger over her breasts as if she is not entirely sure she has the nerve for this, but then gradually they come down to hang at her sides.

He swallows heavily as his eyes wander down her exposed body. Even from here he can see the tiny freckles on her arms and chest. He can see her small, shapely breasts with dusky brown nipples, her flat stomach and the dip of her pelvis, leading to a thatch of dark hair.

When it seems like he’s seen every inch of her, she turns again, angling her head to the side so she is not quite looking at him.

“Now we’re even,” she says, right before the connection breaks.

When his trial finally comes, it goes just about as well as expected. The long, long list of his war atrocities is recited, and he has to stand there and try not to look the part. It’s not as though he is fooling anyone.

Rey is right. They demand his help to take down the remainder of the Order in exchange for a life sentence. As it is happening, Kylo wonders for the millionth time if this is all worth it.

Then he catches Rey’s small smile and Leia’s watery eyes in the trial room, and he ducks his head, quelling his conflicting thoughts.

He agrees of course, because he does not want to die. They try to take his saber from him at the end of it, but Poe fucking Dameron of all people steps in to protest.

“Let him keep it,” he tells the council. “If he’s fighting our war now, he’s better off with it than without.” He eyes Kylo with a wary, yet cocky look. “Besides, I doubt he’s much of a shot anyway.”

Oh, how he loathes that bastard. 

The next time the Force connects him to Rey, he is in his cell again, and she is too focused on an unseen conversation to fully recognize his presence. He hears the voice of that traitor, FN-2187. Kylo tries not to think about the fact that he is a traitor now as well.

“It’s difficult to explain, Finn. If I knew how I would have!”

“But how could you not tell us, Rey? I thought we were your friends!”

“You _are_ my friends! You’re more than that. You’re my family.”

“That’s a pretty big secret to keep from family.” A pause. “You’re going to see him right now, aren’t you?”

“I…”

The bond cuts out then, and Kylo is left to wonder.

 

\---

 

She doesn’t come and see him that day. Or the next. Or the next. Kylo thinks she feels guilty for lying to her friends, who have obviously discovered the truth about their bond. He swallows the bile in his throat. He never wanted them to know. It was enough for Skywalker to know. This is too much.

On the fifth day after the trial, his cell door opens late at night, which is fine by him. It’s not like he’s been getting sound sleep anyway. When he sits up he notes how fatigued Rey looks, and even when he stands and moves to kiss her, she turns her head slightly away.

Irritation fills his chest. “Don’t tell me you aren’t even going to look me.”

She looks at him, if only to prove a point.

“I heard you talking with FN-2187.”

“His name is Finn.”

Kylo’s eyebrows furrow. “Who is he to you?”

Rey sighs. “Ben…”

His irritation grows, and he clenches and unclenches his bare hands. He hasn’t worn his gloves in days. “Tell me.”

“He’s my best friend,” she says, glaring at him fiercely.

“Does he touch you the way I touch you?”

“You’re being absurd.”

“ _Does_ he?”

_“No,_ you _utter twat!_ ”

Kylo is so shocked by her language that he takes a step back. She scowls at him and then shakes her head.

“I’ve told you, there’s been no one else. You need only look to see if I’m lying.”

He knows that, but he wonders why it never occurred to him to sift through her mind again to check. It seems…wrong now.

Rey steps forward and takes his hand. “I know this isn’t easy. Any of it. But you need to trust me.”

He gazes back at her, and then his hand tightens around hers. “I do.”

She nods. “Good.”

He rests his forehead against hers and closes his eyes, their outlines blurred in the darkness of the room.

“Kiss me.” It is almost a plea.

Her lips are soft against his, and he inhales sharply when her hands run over his chest. She angles her body to his, and their sabers clang together at their hips.

Soon they are forgotten on the ground.

She’s underneath him on his bunk, as his hands tug down at her tunic. The skin of her chest, although far darker than his, still glows in the black of the room. He cups her breast in his hand, as his mouth attacks her. He eventually leaves her lips to attach to her nipple, and his cock pulses as she moans quietly.

They silently undress to their underthings, as Kylo marks her body with his lips in new places. Her stomach. Her hip. Her knee. Her outer thigh. Her inner thigh.

The last one gives him an idea.

“Show me that place between your legs,” he tells her huskily, and she takes his hand to guide him. “Here?” he murmurs.

She makes her adjustments. “Right there.”

“Alright.”

He holds the place with his finger and then slides down her body. She props herself on her elbows, a frown on her face. “What are you…?”

The tip of his tongue touches her clit, and she jerks so violently her knee almost impales his side.

“Ben! What did you just do?”

“I thought…don’t you know about this?”

She clears her throat indignantly. “I know what’s necessary to know.”

Kylo blinks at her. “It’s…a common thing…people do.”

“With their…mouths?” She seems unsure.

Thank Maker it’s dark, because you could cook a raw portion on Kylo’s face and serve it on his boiling hot ear.

“You might like it,” he mentions gruffly, hesitantly.

She gazes at him in the dark. “Alright,” she says at last, resting her head on his pillow.

His mouth finds her again, and as his tongue slowly licks up her slit to find the bud between her legs, he feels her shudder violently. He isn’t sure there is a specific technique he should be using, but as he moves his tongue she seems to be enjoying it quite a bit.

Within minutes he can feel her juices on his tongue, and that, along with his saliva, begins to stain the mattress. He is spurred on by her gasps, by the way she moans his name, and he feels himself straining against his boxers.

At one point he gets too eager, and he slides a finger inside her, and she makes a noise of discomfort. He removes it just as quickly.

“Sorry,” he mutters, embarrassed, but she pats the top of his head, and the corners of his mouth turn up.

He’s moving his tongue fiercely now, even going as far as to holding down her thighs as she starts to shake. He slows his tongue, kissing her clit over and over again, just enough pressure to keep the feeling, but not enough to push her over the edge.

“Don’t make me give you another scar,” she threatens breathily.

“Say my name again,” he commands, and then traces her clit slowly with his tongue.

“Ben.”

“No, I want you to _say_ it.” He applies more pressure.

_“Ben,”_ she says, a little breathier.

He swirls his tongue faster, harder. “Say it again, Rey.” He moves his tongue quickly, relentlessly, and she’s tugging at his hair.

_“Ben. Oh, oh, Ben. Oh!”_

Her back arches as she comes, and Kylo squeezes her thighs as she bobs against his tongue wildly, moaning his name over and over. She comes down, and Kylo immediately climbs over her, capturing her lips and sliding his tongue into her mouth.

She winces. “It tastes odd.”

“I like how you taste.”

She seems bashful suddenly, which isn’t a side of her he sees often, and he’s pleased he can make her this way.

“I want to bed you,” he tells her.

“I know.”

“Do you want to?” he questions, and his voice is strained despite his best efforts. He’s still painfully hard.

She swallows. “I…don’t know how.”

“I think lying down is a good start.”

“As if _you’re_ so well practiced.”

He ignores the barb, choosing instead to kiss her shoulder. “Do you want to know what it feels like for me to be inside you, Rey?”

He catches her shiver. “I’m…curious.”

He kisses her neck. “It will hurt,” he warns.

“I’ve been through worse.” She pauses. “I have an implant,” she adds.

His lips stop against her neck. “You do?”

“It’s protocol.”

“I see.”

There are a few beats of silence and then-

“Are you going to get inside me or not?”

“Oh,” Kylo says, taken aback by her abruptness. “Okay.”

He slips off the last of his clothing, and reaches down to test how wet she is. To his surprise and delight, she is still slick. He frowns as he remembers her reaction to his finger, however, and he slips one inside to feel her.

He does it so slowly she doesn’t at first react, but when he adds a second, she winces. When he goes to remove it though, she grabs his wrist.

“Don’t stop.”

It takes a great deal of strength not to come right there.

He works her carefully with two fingers, and although she appears to be in discomfort, every once in a while he hits this place inside her that makes her shudder. He feels for the spot, wiggles the tips of his fingers against the spongy area, and soon she is moaning almost as enthusiastically as she was when he was feasting on her.

“Okay,” she gasps, when he adds a third finger. “Okay. Get inside me now.”

She has a way with words.

He props himself on his elbows and eases over her, using one of his hands to try and find her entrance. It takes longer than he would like.

“Here,” she says, taking him and adjusting. “It’s further back then you would think.”

So it is. Finally, _finally_ , he can feel her entrance, and he makes sure to keep his eyes on her face as he pushes in.

She’s stiff as a board, and she’s squeezing him so tightly it almost hurts. He wants to move very, very badly, but at the same time he can also feel her discomfort through their bond, and he knows she isn’t ready.

“Ben,” she says after a few moments.

“Yes?”

“Move.”

“Move what?”

She gives him a deadpan look.

“Oh. Oh, okay.”

He bites his lip as he slowly thrusts, and very gradually she begins to shift her hips with him. He moans when she brings up one knee, giving him a better angle. He leans forward and cups her breast, sucking her neck again as his thrusts pick up speed.

“Rey,” he murmurs, as she begins to gasp. “Oh, _fuck._ ”

His hairline is sticky with sweat as he moves rapidly, his eyes drifting shut as he focuses on the feeling of fucking her.

For the record, it’s far, _far_ better than his hand.

He comes inside her minutes later, his hand tangled in her hair. His thrusts slow to a stop, and he gently removes himself before lying on his side next to her.

He swallows. “Did you…?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Oh,” he replies, very obviously disappointed.

“You’ll have other opportunities, I’m sure,” she says.

He grins, for he can practically feel her smirk in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Luke in this chapter, but do not worry, he will be making an appearance soon!


	6. Chapter 6

He starts going by Ben again. For the most part.

It’s difficult to get used to at first, especially since most of the time he hears the name ‘Solo,’ which does awful things to his chest.

Most of the time though, it’s still Ren. Ren he can deal with.

What he _can’t_ deal with is being forced to eat in the hall with all the rebels. He sits alone, naturally, and the situation would almost be comical if it weren’t so pathetic. Rey insists it is best for him to integrate himself with his new allies.

His response is a snort so violent, he’s astonished he doesn’t break his nose.

Most nights Rey cannot visit him. She finds little ways to come to his cell, such as bringing him food, and even offering to stand guard outside his room. He knows she doesn’t want to raise suspicion, but he can’t care less about her friends’ opinions. 

He lies in his bunk, tossing and turning, overthinking things, and regretting and wishing she were here for him to run his hands over.

He tugs at the strange, beige uniform they have given him. That was another condition, Rey informed him of: no more black. He thanks the Stars he is not forced to wear orange.

He doesn’t even realize he has fallen asleep until Skywalker grasps his ear between his thumb and forefinger and starts dragging him.

“OW! Will you fucking QUIT IT?”

Ben jerks out of Skywalker’s grasp so harshly that it’s a wonder half his ear doesn’t come off with him. He pivots to scowl at his uncle, rubbing the side of his head.

Skywalker narrows his eyes. “I know what you did.”

Ben’s face quickly morphs into one of horror. It takes him a minute to recover, but when he does, he fashions the darkest look he can muster.

“I told you it’s none of your business,” he hisses.

Skywalker shrugs. “If you really wanted that you _could_ be a bit more subtle, you know.”

Ben’s eye twitches.

“So you’ve joined the Resistance,” his uncle muses, scratching his chin. “I’m very proud of you, Ben.”

“I don’t want your praise,” he barks, but his chest fills with an odd emotion. “And I haven’t joined the Resistance. I’ve set terms.”

“Terms that include joining them.”

Ben isn’t sure how much more of this he can take. “It was either that or death. What would you have done?”

Skywalker raises an eyebrow. “Are you asking me?”

“It was rhetorical!”

His uncle smiles. “You made the right decision, Ben. I trust you to continue on that path.” He goes to turn away from him, but then hesitates. “I _will_ continue to keep an eye out for Rey’s well being though. She is my former apprentice after all.”

Ben scowls. He is never going to be free of this geezer is he? “You can hardly call her that,” Ben points out sourly.

His uncle considers this. “Perhaps you’re right. She is like a daughter then.” He places a hand to his chin. “Although not literally of course, that would make things sort of complicated, wouldn’t it?”

“Weren’t you leaving?” Ben snaps.

Skywalker sends him one of his wry smiles, and Ben wakes up with his fingers gripping the bridge of his nose.

 

\---

 

“I think Ben should sit with us today,” Rey says loudly, almost aggressively in her awkwardness.

Ben’s eyes snap over to her table, where she beckons to him, despite the sour looks the rest of her friends send his way. His eyes widen slightly, and he goes to shake his head, his hand tightening on the tray that holds his portions.

A forced smile breaks across her face, one so unnatural it is almost scary. She grits her teeth and gestures over to him, and he realizes this is not a choice.

He plunks his tray down next to Rey on one of the ends of the table. There is a small Asian woman across from his seat who refuses to make eye contact with him. FN-2187 sits next to her, his mouth set in a deep frown as his eyes continually run over him. Dameron sits on the other side of Rey, and he looks like he’s considering whether or not to snatch the nearest blaster and end it all.

For once, they can agree on something.

“So,” Rey says, clearing her throat multiple times, “Finn, how’s combat training going?”

“It’s alright,” FN-2187 replies robotically, taking a bite of his portion and glaring daggers at Ben.

Rey taps her fingers on her tray. “Er, Rose! Are you, uh, working on anything interesting?”

The woman across from him, Rose, glances up at Rey with an unsure look on her face.

“Yes, but…I don’t know if I should go into detail.” Her eyes briefly flicker over to Ben’s before they are back on her tray.

Rey frowns. “You can say anything here. Ben is one of us now.”

Ben’s nostril twitches the same moment FN-2187 scoffs.

Rey’s shoulders tense in annoyance and frustration. “You could all at least _try_ to get along,” she mutters, slumping.

Dameron wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Alright, alright, I guess for _you_ we can-”

A cup of pudding flies into his face.

Dameron sputters in outrage as he wipes the mess from his skin, while FN-2187 is quick to point the finger at the culprit.

“It was him, I saw it!” He jabs his finger at Ben.

“Ben,” Rey seethes, looking like she’s about to smack him.

By now half the hall is staring in their direction, and apparently it’s Dameron out of all people to defuse the situation. Insufferable bastard.

“It’s fine,” the pilot says, wiping the remnants from his face. “You know I love vanilla.”

Ben catches Dameron glancing back and forth between him and Rey with mild suspicion. This irks Ben to no end.

 

\---

 

The next few days Ben is interrogated on everything he knows about the First Order. He feels like he’s gone over the same information countless times, and it takes all his will power not to throw someone against a wall. Rey is not often at these sessions, so he cannot even look to her to gather his strength.

Another week passes, and the Resistance nearly encounters the First Order. Ben overhears information from a passing rebel that the Order has come to the conclusion their Supreme Leader has abandoned them for good. Hux must be doing a fucking jig.

“It’s important the galaxy knows you are with us,” Rey tells him as she acts as his guard for the afternoon. “They need to see you’re on our side.”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Ben grumbles.

He catches her trying to hide her smile, and he can’t decide if he should be bothered or amused. They come to the doorway containing the private ‘fresher, designated for prisoners.

“I’ll, um, wait here,” Rey tells him, leaning against the wall.

Ben glances into the room. “Come with me,” he says, not looking at her.

Rey blinks. “You can’t be serious.”

“Do you have something better to do?”

“Ben, I’m supposed to be _guarding_ you not…not bathing with you!” She whispers the last part like it’s a sin. And maybe it is, at least when he’s involved.

“I miss touching you,” he murmurs, curling his forefinger around the strand by her ear.

Rey blushes wildly and then looks around the corridor, biting her lip. “Five minutes.”

Ben doesn’t even have the time to grin triumphantly, for she shoves him into the ‘fresher stall, apparently not satisfied with his pace. She goes over to the corner and fiddles with the knobs until the ‘fresher spouts water. She eyes him nervously, and although it is Ben’s idea to be in here in the first place, he shares her nerves for some reason.

The spray of the water dampens her shoulders, but she doesn’t seem bothered that her clothes are getting wet. He glides to her carefully, as if one wrong move will break the spell that has settled over them. He comes before her until he can cup her face with his bare hand. Then they are just two fools standing fully clothed in the ‘fresher.

He rubs his thumb over her cheek as she whispers, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

She swallows shakily. “For being here.”

She doesn’t have to thank him. He doesn’t deserve it, and she knows this, yet somehow the words are exactly what he needs to hear. All the doubt over his surrender, the swirling questions and possible regrets in his mind come to a screeching halt.

He would tell her he loves her if he didn’t think it would ruin everything. Instead he kisses her, both of their faces splattered with ‘fresher water.

They peel their clothing from their bodies until they lie in heavy clumps by their feet. He runs his hand over her dripping back and then her rear until his hands cup the back of her thighs. She wraps her arms around his shoulders as he lifts her to him, coiling her legs around his waist.

He must admit; they make it seem far easier in the holos.

Their foreheads whack against each other painfully as Ben tries to maneuver their bodies while also struggling not to slip on the wet tile. He makes a frustrated noise as he hikes her up over his hips, and she laughs.

He scowls. “I didn’t realize this would involve extensive physics.”

“Why don’t you use the Force?” Rey responds cheekily, and he presses her back against the wall just so he can attack her neck for that.

Eventually, after a great deal of shifting and rearranging, Ben finds his way inside of her, and they both gasp at the sudden contact. Rey winces as she adjusts herself, and then presses her face against the side of his head.

“Go slow.”

He does. It’s easy at first because he is still getting the hang of this angle, but after several lazy thrusts he has to bite his lip to keep from speeding up. The quiet moaning in his ear certainly isn’t helping either.

When she begins to thrust her hips with him, Ben brings his mouth to her ear.

“Can I go faster?”

“Uh-huh,” she replies, her eyes closing and her head tilting back.

Ben pushes her more firmly against the wall as he quickens his pace. He rolls his hips to the steady pounding of the water on his back. Rey opens her eyes and smooths back the damp hair from his face, before kissing him. She plunges her tongue into his mouth, and Ben’s eyes roll back as he closes them.

“Touch yourself,” he murmurs against her mouth.

“Hm?” She pulls back from his lips with a questioning look.

If he already weren’t inside her, his ears would be flaming at the request.

“Touch yourself,” he repeats, readjusting his grip on her thighs. “I want to feel you when you come.”

Rey blinks at his bluntness, but she reaches down between them and finds her most sensitive part. She uses her left arm to hold herself against his chest while she moves her right hand, her lips parting.

Ben’s movements become more urgent as he climbs closer, and he wills himself to slow down so she can beat him. He’s never going to last if she keeps moaning his name the way she is.

Remembering that place inside her from before, he bends his knees and changes his angle, thrusting upwards. He feels her shudder as her hand movements become more desperate, her damp hair clinging to her neck.

_Fuck,_ Ben thinks when she bites her bottom lip in concentration, her eyes squeezed shut. Her body is unbelievably stiff, and with only a few more thrusts she’s coming around him, clenching his cock between her.

When she comes down, she opens her eyes to look at him, her cheeks pink from exertion and from the steam in the air. Her lips are deliciously swollen. Ben thrusts a few more times, and he groans as he spills into her, pressing her against the wall as he finishes.

His thrusts eventually slow, and then he pulls out of her, his legs suddenly shaky. Her feet land on the ground, and she brushes her thumbs across his cheeks to get rid of the strands plastered to his skin.

“That was more than five minutes,” she whispers, bringing her lips to his again.

He chuckles, his low voice bouncing against the wet walls. His lips twitch against hers in a smile, and he closes his eyes, already feeling himself harden again.

Rey pulls back. “You’ve really been helping the Resistance.”

Ben huffs. “Do we have to talk about this now?”

She shrugs. “I just thought you should know.”

“I don’t care if I’m helping them. That’s not why I’m here.”

“I know, but it still means a lot.”

She’s staring at him in this fond sort of way that makes him feel embarrassed, so he glances at the ‘fresher stream behind her. “Yes, well, I can’t have Dameron calling all the shots.”

He can practically _feel_ her rolling her eyes. “You’re jealous.”

“No. I’m _not._ ”

“So the pudding in his face was a trick of the light?”

“He had his hands on you.” Ben frowns, eyeing her.

She shrugs again. “When I left Jakku, I wasn’t used to physical contact either. Finn tried to squeeze my hand a few times, and I always pulled away.” She smiles. “Then I realized that touch doesn’t always have to be an intimate or romantic thing. It can just mean someone cares about you. Friendship or otherwise.”

Ben stares at her. “You mean to tell me we are friends?”

Rey’s face widens in a dazzling grin. “Would you like that, Ben?”

He almost shudders when she says his name again, and he leans forward to capture her lips in a searing kiss. “I don’t want to just be your friend,” he mutters, and then his tongue is tangling with hers and she’s gasping and-

Someone knocks on the locked door to the stall. “Rey? Are you in there?”

Leia’s voice. Forget Snoke, _this_ is the ultimate boner killer.

Rey looks at him with wide pleading eyes, begging him to be quiet. He doesn’t need her to warn him.

“Um, yes, I’ll be out in just a minute,” she calls back.

“Please be prompt. We have a meeting scheduled at 1800 hours.”

“Yes General, I’ll be there,” Rey answers, her hands clutching Ben’s shoulders.

There’s a slight pause. “Ben, your presence is requested as well,” Leia says very calmly from the other side of the door. “And poor hygiene isn’t an excuse for absence, as I trust you are more than squeaky clean.”

Well.

Is it too late to change to a death sentence?

“He’ll be there,” Rey replies, her voice strangled in her attempt to remain casual, but her eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Excellent.”

Leia’s footsteps finally fade away, and neither of them says a word for several minutes. The water has become ice cold.

 

\---

 

Three weeks pass and then the Resistance meets the First Order.

Ben fights his own men…his _former_ men. He doesn’t feel any passion or particular anger when he cuts them down one by one. He simply does what he needs to survive.

That is, until Rey cries out next to him.

He whips around. She has locked blades with another Stormtrooper, the light of her saber crackling against his weapon. Ben throws out his arm, using all his concentration and fury to throw her opponent into the wall of the _Finalizer._

The body cracks satisfyingly.

Rey barely has time to thank him before they are surrounded again. She saves him twice, but then he loses sight of her. He can feel her through the Force, can sense her determination and spirit.

They are winning. The Resistance is actually winning. Ben likes to think some of it has to do with the insider information he has provided, but then he wonders why he cares so much.

He continues his fight, even cutting down an enemy going for FN-2187 at one point. The dark-skinned man seems bewildered at Ben’s interference, but Ben ignores him as he slices the arm off another Trooper.

Eventually, the ships swirling and blasting outside quiet, and most of the Troopers drop to their knees. A couple of rebels bring out Hux and force him to the ground. The First Order has surrendered.

Ben almost smiles.

And then something pricks his brain.

He glances up, his eyes immediately finding Rey fifteen feet above him, on an overhang. She takes care of a few more Troopers who have yet to notice the surrender, but she does not see the Knight of Ren behind her.

_“Rey!”_

She begins to turn her head, and then her body is flying over the railing and she plummets.

Her body cracks sickeningly.

 

\---

 

Ben returns to the main rebel ship covered in blood that is not his own. His entire body is shaking with anger or fear; he can’t quite tell. There are urgent voices around him, and he keeps muttering to himself, asking where Rey is. Nobody pays attention to him in the chaos.

He pushes through into the medical ward, and several droids glance up.

“You can not be in here-” one starts to say, but he cuts it clean through with his saber.

Clearly, that was a mistake, for now there are sirens everywhere, and guards are rushing in, and he doesn’t have the strength to fight. Something sharp pricks the skin on his neck, and then everything goes black.

When he wakes, he is strapped to a medical bed, and his saber is missing. He’s too groggy to be outright furious at first, but he gives it a moment. It never takes long for him to get fired up.

And then he feels like vomiting when he remembers why he was knocked out in the first place.

He struggles against his restraints, but they are clearly Force resistant. The doors to his room open and Leia and fucking Dameron are at his side, looking on with mild worry and a great deal of severity.

“This will be easier if you stop struggling,” Dameron suggests.

Ben spits in his general direction.

Leia narrows her eyes. “Ben. Calm down.”

“Take me to her!” Ben demands.

“She isn’t in a state to receive you,” Dameron says, crossing his arms. He swallows heavily. “Or anyone else.”

Ben’s blood chills. “What’s happened to her?”

“She’s entered a coma,” Leia explains, her face looking more tired than ever. “It’s hard to say if she’ll even make it through the night.”

There’s an alarming lump in his throat, and Ben feels as though he’s choking on his own tongue.

“We couldn’t have done any of this without her,” Dameron mutters, his eyes wet. “She’s saved the galaxy.”

“I don’t care about that,” Ben spits, not caring how selfish he sounds. “Take me to her.”

Dameron’s eyes harden. “No.”

“She’s healing herself,” Leia cuts in before Ben loses his mind. “There’s nothing else we can do but wait.”

Ben stares at his mother for a very long time. He doesn’t expect her to understand, when has she ever understood anything in regards to him? Even so, his eyes beg her to understand this time.

“I know what I have to do.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who has taken the time to comment on this story! I love all of your feedback. 
> 
> I’ve decided to take a break from writing for a while. I’ve loved writing Reylo stories, but I’m just going to take a seat and enjoy reading them for a while. I’m fresh out of ideas at the moment. 
> 
> That being said, if any of you need a beta reader for your own stories I would be happy to help, just let me know! You can also find me on Tumblr under OkaaraGem. 
> 
> See you on the flip side! May the Force be with you ;)

 

Ben can’t seem to swallow the lump in his throat when he sees her. Her body is pale and broken. She looks so fragile, so delicate, and if he couldn’t sense her through their bond, he would think she is dead.

As he sits on a stool by her cot, he feels Leia and Dameron lurking behind him. He turns away from them as much as a possible, taking Rey’s hand. Dameron clears his throat uncomfortably, and that’s when Ben jerks his head to glare at him.

“Leave me.”

The pilot blinks in outrage. “As if I would-”

He pauses when Leia’s hand comes on his shoulder, a comforting gesture that Ben has rarely had the luxury of receiving from his own mother.

“We’ll be right outside,” she tells Ben, her mouth thin but her eyes sharp with an indecipherable emotion.

Dameron seems like he wants to protest more, but he begrudgingly follows Leia outside of the room. Ben waits until he can barely feel their presences before he turns back to Rey.

He stares at her deathly pale face, and reaches to run a thumb over her forehead. She’s almost feverish despite her white complexion. He closes his eyes to quell the itchy moisture behind them.

Then he leans forward and rests his forehead against the back of her hand.

He bleeds into her mind like a river.

He hasn’t entered their connection like this before, and at first his footing is shaky. He stays in limbo in her mind for several moments, only catches flashes of distorted images until finally he fades into an orange desert. It seems too ethereal to be Jakku, but it is the closest thing to describing the environment that he can think of.

He scans the area and finds Rey as a child, face up in the sand, her eyes closed. Her limbs are ten times skinner than they already are, and her features are peppered with youth. She’s like a bird, wiry and breakable.

He’s by her side in an instant, shaking her, and when she doesn’t respond, he lifts her small, broken body into his. She’s tiny in his arms; he holds her like a feather, praying she doesn’t float away.

He thought he would be stronger than he is. He thought he would have the strength to find her, to bring her back. Seeing her like this, so childlike and so close to death, it makes him realize he’s been pretending this entire time.

Luke appears in front of him, standing at a respectable distance. Ben ignores him.

There’s an animalistic noise, wispy and whining and choked. Then his cheeks are wet and he discovers he is sobbing. The noise patters against his chest, choking his vocal chords.

Once, when Ben was a child at his uncle’s academy, he had been carelessly using the Force with one of his peers after hours. He had ended up shattering the boy’s arm from the elbow up. Ben had run to Luke in tears, and when his uncle had assessed the damage, he gave his nephew a look that would stick with him for years. His uncle was wary and afraid. Afraid of him.

Ben swore he would never go to his uncle for help again. He would figure everything out on his own.

Today he would break yet another vow to himself.

“What do I do?” he begs his uncle, his knees sinking into the sand as he cradles Rey’s body.

Luke watches him.

“Tell me!” Ben shouts, his face red-blotted and twisted hideously.

“You’ll have to use the Force, Ben,” his uncle advises. “If you have any hope of healing her.”

Ben blinks back a fresh set of tears. “I’ve never been able to heal with the Force,” he cries. “It doesn’t come easily to Darksiders,” he adds bitterly.

“Does your soul belong to the Dark?” his uncle asks.

Ben pauses. “What?” he chokes.

“Did it ever truly belong to the Dark?”

His hands tighten around Rey. “Stop speaking in riddles. Just spit it out!”

Luke surveys him. “If you truly believe you cannot heal her, then you never will.” He smiles sadly. “I’ve always told others to never give up hope, even though when the time came, I couldn’t even follow my own advice. You know that better than anyone.” His eyes become burning. “I’m sorry.”

Ben’s chest constricts, and he is flooded with a barrage of emotions, none of which he can sort out in his current state. “I’m scared, Uncle.”

Rey may look like the youthful one, but he is the child.  

Even so, Luke’s gaze is unwavering. “I believe in you.”

Ben gazes at Rey and lays her body onto the sand. He watches the tiny strands of hair dance across her peaceful face. He slowly reaches out and places his hand in the center of her chest, his palm practically engulfing her entire torso. He wipes his face with his other hand, and then closes his eyes.

He can feel her Force signature beating weakly throughout her body. He takes a deep breath and channels what he feels, coaxing it out of its shell. A couple of times he feels like he might lose it entirely, and his heart nearly stops. Then, he grabs ahold of it, not forcefully, but as one would a small insect with paper wings. He guides it to the surface, and his breathing evens as it wraps around him. His mind tingles with the beginnings of their connection, and then he hears a gasp.

His eyes snap open, and Rey is there as her normal self, her eyes wide and her lips parted in surprise. Her gaze snaps to him, and then the two of them are just gawking at each other like fools.

“I…thought I died,” she tells him, blinking wildly.

She doesn’t have time to say anything more, for she’s in his arms and he’s hugging her and squeezing her and kissing her fiercely. His hands are everywhere, never able to touch enough, to hold enough of her.

He thinks he tells her he loves her. He can’t be sure.

“Ahem.”

Their faces break apart, and that’s when Ben discovers Rey is in his lap, and his uncle is still watching. Rey flushes from head to toe and her mouth bobs as if she is about to offer a sorry explanation.

“Uncle…” Ben starts, and then stops. What else is there to say really?

The corner of Luke’s mouth quirks, and he rolls his eyes.

“Oh, _alright_. You get a pass this time.” He waves them off like a crotchety old man, who’s just given up his pride. His eyes land on Ben, and he gives a quick wink. “See you ‘round, Kid.”

And then he’s gone.

“What was that all about?” Rey asks Ben breathlessly.

“Who knows,” Ben mutters, but he knows Rey can sense he wants to keep this piece to himself.

She smiles at him. “We should wake up. I’m sure the rest of the Resistance would like to know I’m still alive.”

“You’ll still be alive in twenty minutes,” Ben mentions casually, rubbing his thumb down her neck and hooking it under the collar of her tunic. “And I have a feeling we won’t be disturbed this time.”

She raises an eyebrow. “ _Twenty_ minutes?That’s awfully bold of you.”

He leans in to kiss her. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See note above in beginning of chapter!
> 
> Thought I’d end this fun, little story with a quick laugh. This project actually turned out a lot deeper than I originally intended, but I suppose I just can’t help myself. Thank you all for reading, and remember you can always find me on Tumblr under OkaaraGem. Love you all, and thanks for indulging in this silly story. I’ll see you on the flip side.


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